r 


THE  SIGN  OF 
THE  PROPHET 


A  TALE   OF  TECUMSEH 
AND  TIPPECANOE 


BY 

James  Ball  Naylor 

Author  of  «  RALPH  MARLOWE  » 


AKRON, OHIO 

THE  SAALFIELD  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK       1901          CHICAGO 


COPYRIGHT,  1901, 

BY 
THE  SAAI.FIEIvD   PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


MADE  BY 

THE  WERNER   COMPANY 

BOOK  MANUFACTURERS 
AKRON,    OHIO 


TO 

SAMUEL  G.  MCCLURE 

of  The  Ohio  State  Journal, 
who  encouraged  my  early 
literary  endeavors,  this  book 
is  gratefully  dedicated. 

Very  Truly, 
JAMES  BALL  NAYLOR 


8139427 


THE  SIGN   OF  THE   PROPHET 


CHAPTER  I. 

IT  WAS  a  hot,  sultry  morning  in  the  latter  part  of 
August,  1811. 

A  dugout  canoe  containing  two  occupants  was 
swiftly  speeding  down  the  Scioto,  at  a  point  near 
which  the  city  of  Columbus  now  stands. 

The  clear  green  water  wimpled  musically  at  the 
bow  of  the  vessel,  and  a  frothy  wake  bubbled  and 
eddied  at  the  stern.  The  surface  of  the  stream  lay 
cool  and  dark  in  the  shadow  of  the  overhanging 
trees  ;  but  where  the  red  rays  of  the  rising  sun  shot 
through  the  dense  foliage  and  fell  upon  the  pulse- 
less bosom  of  the  sluggish  tide,  they  gave  it  the 
metallic  luster  of  burnished  copper.  Great  trees 
ranged  themselves  as  stalwart  sentinels  along  the 
shores,  a  part  of  the  grand  army  that  stretched 
away  to  the  far  distance  ou  either  hand.  Their 
leaves  were  dark-green  and  glossy.  Yellow  and 
purple  wild  flowers  lifted  their  fair  faces  to  the 
morning  sun  and  nodded  a  welcome.  Feathered 
songsters  fluttered  among  the  gray  boughs  and 
chirped  and  warbled  merrily.  A  venturesome  fish 
popped  several  feet  out  of  the  water  —  just  ahead  of 

(7) 


8  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

the  swiftly  flying  dugout  —  and  flashed  its  silver 
scales  in  a  tantalizing  manner. 

The  occupants  of  the  canoe  gave  little  heed  to  the 
beauties  of  the  scene.  Seated  in  the  bottom  of  their 
quivering,  rocking  craft,  they  rapidly  and  rhyth- 
mically dipped  their  light  paddles.  At  each  stroke 
the  frail  vessel  lifted  itself  and  sprang  forward,  like 
a  thing  of  life.  The  forest  receded  from  the  west- 
ern bank  of  the  river,  and  low-lying  fields  of  tall, 
rank  corn  took  its  place.  Walled  in  by  the  growing 
maize,  lay  the  straggling  village  of  Franklinton — a 
cluster  of  rude  log-huts.  Cleared  spaces  appeared 
in  the  woods  upon  the  eastern  shore ;  and  several 
cabins  stood  out  against  the  background  of  encir- 
cling trees  —  the  germ,  the  nucleus  of  the  Capital 
City  of  to-day. 

The  two  paddlers  looked  neither  to  the  right,  nor 
to  the  left,  but  laboriously  bent  to  their  work.  Sud- 
denly a  man  parted  the  bushes  upon  the  western 
shore  and,  stepping  down  to  the  water's  edge,  called 
lustily : 

' '  Hello !     That  you,  Ross  Douglas  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  the  man  in  the  stern  of  the 
dugout.  "  What  do  you  want?  " 

Both  paddlers  ceased  their  efforts  and  allowed  the 
craft  to  drift  with  the  lazy  current. 

"  W'y,  y'r  dog  come  to  my  cabin  this  mornin' — 
all  wet  an'  draggled  as  though  he'd  swum  the 
river,"  returned  the  voice  from  the  shore.  "He 
'peared  to  be  tuckered  out  an'  hungry  —  an'  went 
whmin'  'round  as  if  he  was  huntin'  fer  you.  I  fed 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  9 

him,  an'  then  tied  him  up  in  the  cabin.  Do  you 
want  him  ?  " 

The  paddler  in  the  bow  of  the  canoe  turned  his 
head  and  looked  at  his  companion,  at  the  same  time 
uttering  a  grunt  of  surprise  and  incredulity. 

"  You  may  keep  him  until  I  come  back,"  called 
the  man  who  had  answered  to  the  name  of  Ross 
Douglas,  lifting  his  paddle  and  preparing  to  resume 
his  journey. 

"  Hold  on  there,  Ross!  " — shouted  the  individual 
on  shore.  ' '  What  do  you  mean  —  where  're  you 
goin'  ? " 

"  Going  to  join  General  Harrison's  army  at  Vin- 
cennes." 

And  the  suspended  paddles  dipped,  and  the  dugout 
leaped  forward. 

' '  Stop,  I  say  ! ' '  bellowed  the  man  who  had  hailed 
the  voyagers,  running  along  the  shelving  sands  and 
gesticulating  wildly.  "Ross  Douglas,  you  ain't  a 
goin'  to  run  off  like  that  an'  leave  an  ol'  friend, 
without  shakiu'  his  paw  an'  biddin'  him  good-by 
—  I'm  danged  if  you  are!  Stop,  'r  I'll  send  a 
bullet  spinnin'  out  there  —  I  will,  by  Sally  Ma- 
tildy!" 

"But  I'm  in  a  hurry,"  Douglas  laughed  good- 
humoredly. 

"  It  don't  make  no  differ' nee,"  persisted  the 
other.  ' '  Come  in  here. ' ' 

"Turn  the  prow  toward  shore,  Bright  Wing," 
Douglas  said  in  a  low  tone  to  his  companion. 

' '  Ugh  !  ' '  grunted  the  latter  —  and  obeyed. 


io  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

A  few  moments  later  the  canoe  beached  itself  and 
the  two  paddlers  sprang  ashore.  The  one  who  had 
occupied  the  bow  of  the  craft  was  an  Indian  — 
young,  lithe,  and  strong.  His  forehead  was  high 
and  narrow ;  his  nose,  slightly  aquiline.  His  eyes 
were  small,  black,  and  piercing;  his  brawny  chest  and 
muscular  arms  were  bare.  His  straight,  blue-black 
hair — braided  and  ornamented  with  beads  and  per- 
forated shells  and  coins — reached  his  waist. 
Breeches,  leggings,  and  moccasins  of  tanned  buck- 
skin constituted  his  dress.  In  his  belt  were  toma- 
hawk and  scalping-knife ;  and  he  carried  a  heavy 
rifle.  He  belonged  to  the  Wyandot  tribe,  and  was 
an  adopted  son  of  the  noble  chief,  Leatherlips. 

The  Indian's  companion  was  an  American  —  tall, 
active,  and  sinewy.  His  complexion  was  swarthy  ; 
his  steel-gray  eyes  were  bold  and  keen.  But  the  stern 
oast  they  gave  to  his  countenance  was  relieved  by  a 
pair  of  smiling  lips,  indicating  gentleness  and  great 
good-nature.  A  mass  of  soft  brown  hair  clustered 
in  short  ringlets  about  his  temples  and  rippled  down 
upon  his  broad  shoulders.  The  well-fitting  suit  of 
buckskin  that  he  wore  revealed  the  rounded  contour 
of  his  shapely  limbs ;  and  the  broad-brimmed  soft 
hat  that  surmounted  his  silky  curls  set  off  his  dark 
beauty  to  the  best  advantage.  His  weapons  were 
of  the  finest  workmanship,  and  gave  evidence  of  the 
loving  care  their  owner  bestowed  upon  them.  Ap- 
parently he  was  about  twenty-eight  years  old. 

The  man  who  had  hailed  the  two  voyagers  —  and 
whom  they  now  stood  facing  —  was  a  typical  back- 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  n 

woodsman  of  middle  age.  His  face  was  oppres- 
sively ugly  —  prominent  nose,  wide  mouth,  and 
pale-blue,  watery  eyes.  His  hair  was  scant  and 
straw-colored;  his  body  and  limbs,  were  long,  lank, 
and  ungainly.  His  garb  was  in  keeping  with  his 
character — hunting  shirt  and  breeches  of  coarse 
linsey-woolsey  .heavy  cowhide  boots,  and  peaked  fur- 
cap.  He  was  a  grotesque,  incongruous  bundle  of 
bones  and  sinews  —  a  whimsical,  eccentric  hunter 
and  trapper.  But  a  more  valiant,  loyal,  and  loving 
heart,  than  Joe  Farley  had,  never  beat  in  man's 
bosom. 

Now  he  stood  leaning  upon  his  long  rifle,  a  quiz- 
zical smile  illuminating  his  rugged  features. 

"  What  do  you  want,  Joe?  "  Douglas  demanded 
briskly. 

"  Want  to  know  where  you're  bound  fer,"  came 
the  drawling  reply. 

"  I  told  you — to  Vincennes,  to  join  Harrison's 
army,"  Ross  answered,  a  shade  of  annoyance  in 
his  tone. 

"  You  don't  mean  it  ?  " 

"  But  I  do." 

"  Is  the  Injin  goin',  too  ?  " 

' '  Ugh !  Me  go,  too, ' '  said  the  rednian,  drawing 
himself  up  proudly. 

"Seems  to  me  it's  goin'to  be  a  strange  sort  o'  war," 
Farley  chuckled  dryly.  "  Injins  an'  white  men  on 
one  side  —  an'  white  men  an'  Injins  on  t'other. 
'Cause  that's  what  it's  comin'  to.  The  danged 
Britishers  has  got  the'  r  fingers  in  the  pie  ag'in  — 


12  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

an'  ther'  ain't  no  tellin'  where  the  thing  '11  stop. 
So,  Bright  Wing,  you're  goin'  out  to  fight  ag'in 
your  own  people,  are  you?  " 

"  Not  my  people,"  grunted  the  Indian,  his  black 
eyes  flashing.  ' '  Me  Wyandot  —  me  fight  Shaw- 
nees. " 

"  It  don't  make  no  differ'nce  —  they've  got  red 
skins,"  Joe  remarked. 

' '  Ugh !     You  much  big  fool !  ' ' 

And  the  impulsive  young  warrior's  hand  involun- 
tarily sought  the  handle  of  his  tomahawk. 

Farley's  face  flushed,  and  he  cried  sharply: 

"  Keep  y'r  hand  off  y'r  hatchet,  redskin.  That's 
a  game  two  can  play  at. ' ' 

Quickly  Douglas  stepped  between  the  two  and, 
turning  upon  Farley,  said  sternly: 

"  Joe,  you  may  not  be  a  fool,  but  you're  acting 
the  part  of  one,  at  any  rate.  You  know  as  well 
as  I  that  the  Wyandots  are  the  friends  of  the 
Americans,  that  the  Shawnees  are  the  allies  of 
the  British.  Of  course,  there  are  traitors  in 
both  tribes ;  but  what  I  have  stated  is  true  in 
the  main.  Bright  Wing  is  my  comrade  —  your 
friend.  If  you're  a  man,  you'll  beg  his  par- 
don." 

"  An'  that's  jest  what  I'm  goin'  to  do,"  Farley 
shamefacedly  muttered.  "  'Pears  that  I'll  never 
git  to  understandin'  In j ins.  They're  so  danged 
touchy. ' ' —  This  in  an  aggrieved  tone. —  ' '  But  I  had 
no  business  to  be  tormentin'  Bright  Wing  —  he's 
a  redskin  with  a  white  man's  heart  in  his  breast. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET    •          13 

Injiti,  here's  my  hand.  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  y'r 
feelin's. " 

' '  All  right  —  me  know, ' '  murmured  Bright  Wing 
in  guttural  accents. 

Then  he  moved  aside  and  seated  himself  upon  the 
prow  of  the  canoe. 

"Now,  Joe,  we  must  be  off,"  Ross  began  hur- 
riedly. 

"  You  mean  what  you've  said  —  you're  goin'  to 
jine  the  army?  "  Farley  interrupted. 

Douglas  nodded. 

"  Goin'  to  leave  y'r  land  an'  everything  an'  go  off 
to  fight  Injins  —  an'  Britishers,  maybe?" 

"The  land  will  keep,"  Ross  laughed.  "Little 
good  it  does  me,  at  any  rate.  I  have  never  cut  a 
stick  of  timber  upon  it." 

"That's  what  I  mean,"  replied  the  other  ear- 
nestly. ' '  You  ort  to  stay  an'  clear  it  up  an' 
make  a  home  of  it.  Quit  y'r  huntin'  an'  traipsin' 
'round  with  such  fellers  as  me  an'  Bright  Wing, 
an'  settle  down.  It  don't  make  much  differ'nce 
what  /do.  But  you've  got  book  learnin'  an'  good 
sense.  You're  wastin'  y'r  time." 

"  I  'm  well  pleased  with  the  life  I  lead,  Joe." 

"  That's  jest  the  trouble  —  you're  too  well  pleased 
with  it." 

"  I  promise  you  I'll  reform  when  I  return." 

"An'  you're  goin'  away  an'  leave  that  little 
sweetheart  o'  your'n  ? ' ' 

' '  You  mean  Amy  I/arkin  ?  ' ' 

"Of  course." 


14  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"Yes,  I  must  leave  her.  But  I  shall  be  back 
soon  —  in  a  few  months,  perhaps.  Then  I'll 
marry  her  and  settle  down  —  become  a  model  hus- 
bandman. ' ' 

"  You're  puttin'  off  till  to-morrer  what  you  ort 
to  do  to-day." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Joe?  " 

"  You  know  oP  man  L,arkin  don't  like  you  none 
too  well  —  jest  on  account  o'  y'r  shiftless  ways, 
as  he  calls  it  ?  " 

' '  I  am  aware  that  he  doesn't  look  upon  me  as 
a  promising  son-in-law  —  yes." 

"  An'  he  does  think  a  heap  o'  George  Hilliard?  " 

"Y-e-s." 

"Well,  you  won't  be  gone  a  month  till  George 
Hilliard  '11  be  standin'  in  y'r  shoes." 

' '  I  have  no  fears  on  that  score. ' ' 

"All  right! — but  you'll  see.  Gals  is  gals  — 
they're  all  false  an'  fickle.  A  bird  in  the  hand's 
worth  two  in  the  bush,  Ross.  You'd  better  stay 
here  an'  be  gittin'  a  cage  ready  fer  y'r  bird.  Ol' 
Sam  lyarkin's  got  a  heap  o'  good  land  —  an'  a  heap 
more  money.  He's  rich.  An'  Amy's  a  purty  nice 
gal  —  an'  the  only  child.  You  don't  want  to  let  all 
that  slip  through  y'r  fingers,  my  boy." 

' '  You're  talking  nonsense,  Joe.  Amy  loves  me 
—  she  don't  care  a  fig  for  George  Hilliard.  I'll 
marry  her  on  my  return,  with  or  without 
her  father's  consent.  Hilliard  is  a  Canadian — an 
English  sympathizer.  Mr.  L,arkin  will  not  forget 
that.  Besides,  if  we  have  another  war  with  Great 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  15 

Britain  —  as  appears  likely  —  this  neighborhood 
will  become  too  warm  for  the  forehanded  George. 
I  care  nothing  for  Amy's  prospective  fortune,  but  I 
love  her.  And  I'm  going  to  marry  her,  no  matter 
who  may  oppose. ' ' 

The  young  man's  chest  heaved,  and  defiance  to 
the  whole  world  shone  in  his  gray  eyes. 

"It's  a  good  thing  to  have  plenty  o'  grit  an'  con- 
fidence," Farley  chuckled;  "  but  ther's  a  chance  o' 
havin'  too  much  o'  even  a  good  thing  —  I  swan 
ther'  is  !  An'  lawzee  !  Hain't  I  had  the  'xperience? 
Many's  the  purty,  rosy-cheeked  gals  I  could  'ave 
got  in  my  younger  days.  W'y,  they  used  to  tag 
after  me  an'  pester  me  'most  to  death.  I've  had 
more  'n  a  dozen  of  'em  dead  in  love  with  me  at  one 
time  —  fairly  scratchin'  each  other's  eyes  out, 
quar'lin'  'bout  which  one  'Id  git  me.  All  of  'em  love- 
sick over  my  beauty  —  my  purty  form  an'  features. 
But  I  jest  stuck  my  nose  up  in  the  air  an'  passed  'em 
by.  An'  see  me  to-day  !  I'm  an  everlastin'  warnin' 
—  a  livin'  monument  to  disap'inted  love  an'  dang- 
nation  foolishness.  Ther'  ain't  a  piece  o'  linsey- 
woolsey  in  the  whole  settlement  that  '11  even  look  — • 
Snakes  an'  garters  !  What's  that  ?  " 

Both  white  men  started.  The  Indian  stolidly 
maintained  his  position  upon  the  prow  of  the  canoe  ; 
but  his  ready  finger  rested  upon  the  trigger  of  his 
gun.  A  heavy  body  came  crashing  through  the 
weeds  and  bushes  upon  the  bank.  Then  the  vines 
and  branches  parted  ;  and,  with  a  hoarse  yelp  of  joy, 
a  large  dog  sprang  into  the  open  and  crouched  at 


1 6  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Douglas's  feet.  He  was  a  magnificent  black-and- 
tan  animal,  lithe  and  strong  as  a  panther  —  an  im- 
mense bloodhound.  He  was  wet  and  muddy  ;  and 
as.  he  lay  at  his  master's  feet,  he  rolled  his  red- 
rimmed  eyes  and  panted  and  whined.  A  piece  of 
thong  was  about  his  neck,  to  which  was  fastened 
a  short  sharpened  stake. 

"Well,  if  that  don't  beat  my  reckonin' !  "  bawled 
Farley,  opening  his  wide  mouth  and  hawhawing 
heartily.  ' '  How  in  the  name  o' '  Julius  Csesar  did 
that  dog  ever  git  loose  ?  That  stake  was  druv  in  the 
hard  floor  o'  my  shack,  deep  enough  to  hold  a  bull 
—  it  was,  by  the  Queen  o'  Sheba  !  An'  he's  pulled 
it  up.  But  how  in  the  plague  did  he  git  out  o'  the 
cabin?  Must  'ave  crawled  up  the  chimbly  —  by 
cracky  !  'Cause  I  latched  the  door  as  I  come  out  — 
I'm  certain  of  it.  Dang-it-all-to-dingnation  !  But 
it  does  beat  all  !  " 

The  dog  now  attempted  to  raise  his  head  and  lick 
his  master's  hand.  Failing  in  this,  he  slowly  arose 
to  his  feet,  tremulously  wagged  his  tail,  and  be- 
seechingly fastened  his  eyes  upon  Ross's  face.  Then 
he  whined. 

"  Down,  Duke  !"  Douglas  commanded  sternly. 

The  dog  obeyed;  but  rolled  his  great  eyes  up- 
ward toward  the  being  he  loved  and  worshiped,  as 
though  begging  pardon  for  his  misconduct. 

"  Joe,  I  want  you  to  take  him  back  to  your  cabin 
and  keep  him  until  I  return.  I  tried  to  run  away 
from  him  this  morning,  but  he  has  trailed  me  — 
although  I  traveled  by  water.  I  left  him  at  the 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  17 

Wyaudot  village  above  here.  Take  him  away,  Joe ; 
I  can't  bear  to  leave  while  he's  looking  at  me  like 
that." 

And  there  was  a  quaver  in  Ross  Douglas's 
voice. 

"Duke  him  much  good  dog  —  him  heap  big 
brave,"  volunteered  Bright  Wing,  nodding  vigor- 
ously. 

"  Quick,  Joe  —  take  him  away,"  Ross  said  hus- 
kily. 

"I  ain't  a-goin'  to  do  it,"  replied  Farley,  with  a 
stubborn  shake  of  the  head. 

' '  Why  ?  ' '  Ross  inquired  in  surprise. 

"  '  Cause  the  dog  loves  you  an'  ort  to  go  with 
you  —  that's  why.  He'll  jest  natur'ly  pine  away 
an'  die  if  you  leave  him  behind  you." 

"But  I  can't  take  him  with  me,"  Douglas  ar- 
gued ;  "he  would  be  in  the  way  —  he  would  get 
himself  and  me  into  trouble. ' ' 

"  Ther's  another  reason  why  I  won't  take  him 
back  to  my  cabin,"  Joe  remarked,  his  pale  eyes 
twinkling. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Jest  this:  If  you're  goin'  to  war,  I'm  goin' 
with  you.  I  hain't  got  a  chick  n'r  child  to  leave  — 
an'  I'm  goin'." 

"You?" 

"Yes." 

"With  Bright  Wing  and  me ? " 

"  Fer  sure." 

' '  I  thought  you  were  opposed  to  my  going  ? ' ' 

2 


1 8  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  I  was — -'an'  I  am  yit.     But  if  you  go,  I  go,  too." 

"  Perhaps  we  don't  desire  your  company." 

A  smile  fluttered  about  the  corners  of  Ross's 
mouth. 

"  It  don't  make  no  differ'nce,"  was  the  dogged 
reply;  "I'm  goin'  anyhow.  So  move  y'r  things 
'round  in  the  dugout  an'  make  room  fer  us.  I'm 
all  ready.  Ding-it-all-to-dangnation  !  I  can't  stay 
here  an'  see  you  go —  an'  I  won't" 

"Shall  we  take  him,  Bright  Wing?"  Douglas 
mischievously  inquired. 

"Ugh!"  exploded  the  Indian.  "Joe  him  got 
heap  long  gun  —  him  shoot  much  straight.  Him 
go.  Three  braves  kill  sight  more  bad  Shawnees 
than  two.  Joe  go." 

"  Very  well,"  Ross  said  slowly,  with  assumed  re- 
luctance in  his  tone,  ' '  you  shall  go,  Joe.  Is  there 
anything  you  want  to  bring  from  your  hut  ?  " 

"  Nothin'."  —  With  a  decided  shake  of  the  head. 

"  In  you  go,  then  —  and  let's  be  off." 

A  few  minutes  later  there  were  "  three  men  in 
the  boat  —  not  counting  the  dog, " —  and  they  were 
moving  rapidly  down  the  stream,  in  the  shade  of 
the  overhanging  trees.  When  some  two  or  three 
miles  below  the  village  of  Franklinton,  Douglas  ad- 
dressed a  few  words  in  the  Wyandot  tongue,  to  the 
Indian,  who  again  occupied  the  bow  of  the  canoe. 
Bright  Wing  nodded  and  immediately  turned  the 
prow  toward  a  little  cove  upon  the  eastern  shore. 
A  moment  later  the  boat  grated  upon  the  sandy 
beach,  and  Ross  sprang  ashore. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  19 

"Keep  Duke  with  you,"  he  cried  as  he  ran 
lightly  up  the  bank.  "I'll  not  be  gone  long." 

' '  Say  !  wher'  you  goin'  now  ?  ' '  Farley  called 
after  him.  But  the  young  man  did  not  deign  to  re- 
ply. 

"  I  was  a  fool  to  ask  the  question,"  Joe  muttered 
to  himself.  "  Might  'ave  knowed  he  was  goin'  to 
bid  his  sweetheart  good-by.  I  jest  f ergot  fer  a 
minute  we  was  opposite  to  ol'  Sam  L,arkin's  place. 
Down,  Duke,  an'  behave  y'rself.  Y'r  master  don't 
need  you  in  this  affair.  Oh,  jeminy  —  no  !  Two's 
company  an'  three's  a  congregation,  when  it  comes 
to  love-makin' .  Hain't  I  been  through  it,  hey? 
Gol-fer-ginger  !  What  a  heart-breaker  I  was  !  S'pect 
I'll  never  git  fergiveness  fer  the  way  I've  used  the 
women.  Dang-it-all-to-dinguation  !  Wen  a  man 
begins  to  git  old,  his  youthful  sins  an*  follies  all 
comes  back  to  him.  Mine  ha'nts  me  o'  nights  till 
I  can't  sleep.  An'  I  can't  eat,  neither.  First  thing 
I  know  I'll  worry  an'  fret  over  the  cruel  way  I've 
used  the  women  folks,  till  my  beauty  '11  begin  to  fade 
—  an'  like  as  not  peter  out  entirely.  An'  I  wouldn't 
'ave  that  happen  fer  nothin'.  Gol-fer-socks  no  I 
Say,  Injin,  'ave  you  got  any  tobacker  ?  " 

Without  a  word  Bright  Wing  opened  the  pouch 
at  his  side  and  gave  the  lugubrious  Farley  a  hand- 
ful of  tobacco.  The  latter  filled  his  short-stemmed 
pipe,  lighted  it,  and  puffed  away  in  silence  for  some 
time. 

The  bloodhound  lay  watching  the  place  where 
his  master  had  disappeared.  Presently  he  half 


20  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

arose,  shook  his  pendulous  ears  and  growled  omi- 
nously. Then,  ere  he  could  be  restrained,  he 
leaped  from  the  canoe  and  dashed  up  the  bank,  into 
the  woods.  With  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and 
anger,  Joe  stumbled  ashore  and  set  out  in  pursuit  of 
the  dog,  closely  followed  by  Bright  Wing. 

On  leaving  his  friends,  Ross  Douglas  entered  the 
forest  and  hurried  along  a  dim  path,  until  he 
reached  the  edge  of  a  clearing  a  few  hundred  yards 
from  the  river.  In  the  center  of  this  cleared  space, 
and  upon  a  slight  elevation  of  ground,  stood  a 
double  log-cabin  with  a  hall  or  passage  between  the 
two  rooms.  The  house  stood  facing  the  river;  and 
the  doors  and  windows  were  open.  Back  of  the 
building  was  a  field  of  corn  surrounded  by  a  fence 
of  brush  and  poles,  and  in  front  of  it  lay  a  small 
patch  of  potatoes  and  garden  vegetables. 

Ross  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  looked 
from  his  cool  retreat,  across  the  sun-baked  clearing, 
toward  the  cabin.  Presently  a  face  appeared  at  one 
of  the  small  windows.  Douglas  stepped  forward 
and  beckoned.  Then  he  hastily  sprang  back  among 
the  trees.  The  face  quickly  disappeared  from  the 
window ;  and  a  few  seconds  later  a  young  woman 
emerged  from  the  door  and  tripped  nimbly  down 
the  path  leading  to  the  fringe  of  woodland  along  the 
river-shore.  She  was  neatly  clad.  Her  frock  was 
of  linsey-woolsey;  her  shoes  were  of  calfskin.  A 
wide-brimmed  straw  hat  set  jauntily  upon  her  brown 
hair  added  to  the  piquancy  of  her  fair  oval  face. 
Her  cheeks  were  rosy;  her  teeth,  white,  and  even. 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  21 

Entering  the  wood  she  called  softly: 

' '  Ross,  where  are  you  ?  " 

"Here,  Amy,"  he  answered  in  a  low  joyful  tone, 
stepping  from  his  place  of  concealment  and  hurry- 
ing toward  her. 

With  a  glad  cry  she  sprang  into  his  outstretched 
arms,  and  hid  her  blushing  face  upon  his  shoulder. 
For  a  full  minute  he  strained  her  to  his  breast,  and 
neither  spoke.  When  at  last  she  raised  her  face  it 
was  wet  with  tears ;  and  a  catch  was  in  her  voice 
as  she  said: 

' '  And  you  are  going,  Ross  ? ' ' 

"I  must  go,  darling,"  he  replied  softly. 

"  Why  must  you  go  and  leave  me  here  alone?" 
she  cried.  "Why  must  you  run  into  danger, 
Ross  ?  Stay  here  with  me  —  please  do  !  You  may 
never  come  back. ' ' 

"  There  —  there,  little  one!"  he  whispered  sooth- 
ingly. "  Of  course,  I  shall  come  back.  Then  we'll 
be  married;  and  I'll  settle  down  on  my  piece  of 
land  and  never  leave  you  again." 

"But  you  may  —  may  get  —  killed,"  she  sobbed. 

' '  I  must  take  my  chances  along  with  others, 
Amy,"  he  answered  firmly.  "I  feel  that  it's  my 
duty  to  go." 

"I  —  I  can't  understand "  she  began. 

"  It's  like  this,"  he  interrupted  as  he  seated  her 
upon  a  mossy  log  and  placed  his  arm  around  her 
waist.  ' '  Seventeen  years  ago  —  when  you  were  a 
baby  —  General  Wayne  made  a  treaty  with  the  In- 
dian tribes  at  Greenville.  That  treaty  has  protected 


22  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

the  border-settlements  until  now.  The  savages 
have  kept  to  themselves  and  left  the  white  settlers 
unmolested.  And  the  vanguard  of  civilization  has 
moved  rapidly  and  steadily  toward  the  setting  sun. 
But  now  all  is  changed.  The  British  are  again  en- 
couraging the  Indians  to  take  up  arms  against  the 
Americans.  Tecumseh  and  his  brother,  the 
Prophet,  are  doing  all  in  their  power  to  form  an 
Indian  confederacy  that  will  be  able  to  drive  the 
Americans  from  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  valleys. 
Tecumseh  is  brave  and  ambitious  ;  the  Prophet, 
cruel  and  cunning.  Already  they  have  aroused  the 
redmen  to  a  pitch  of  frenzy  that  threatens  the 
safety  of  every  border-settlement  —  including  this. 
General  Harrison  is  forming  an  army  at  Vincennes, 
to  march  against  the  allied  tribes.  I  know  the 
woods  —  am  acquainted  with  the  Indian  mode  of 
warfare.  I  can  render  service  to  my  country  —  my 
people.  I  must  go,  Amy." 

She  had  dried  her  tears.  Now  she  kissed  him 
and  said  coaxingly  : 

"Please — please  don't  go!  Stay  here  and  — 
and  —  marry  me  —  now. ' ' 

"You  little  siren  —  you  little  traitor!"  he 
laughed,  playfully  patting  her  cheek.  "  With  your 
enchantment  you  would  win  me  from  the  path  of 
duty.  You  tempt  me  sorely  —  but  it  may  not  be. 
Duty  calls " 

"Oh,  duty  —  duty!"  she  cried,  impatiently 
stamping  her  small  foot  and  pouting  her  red  lips. 
"  Do  you  care  more  for  duty  than  you  do  for  me?" 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  23 

"  That's  not  fair,  Amy,"  he  said  gravely.  "You 
know  that  I  love  you  dearly  —  better  than  I  love 
anyone  else  in  the  wide  world.  You  should  be  a 
brave  little  woman  and  help  me  to  do  the  right. 
Besides,  if  I  should  play  the  poltroon  and  stay 
here,  you  yourself  would  despise  me  for  a  miserable 
coward  —  a  mean  wretch  unworthy  of  a  good  wom- 
an's love  and  respect." 

He  stopped  to  note  the  effect  of  his  words.  She 
hung  her  head  and  blushed  deeply.  But  whether 
with  shame  or  anger  he  could  not  tell.  He  waited  for 
her  to  speak ;  but  she  said  nothing.  He  continued : 

"At  any  rate,  your  father  wouldn't  consent  to 
our  marriage,  and  you  wouldn't  be  willing  to  wed 
me  without  his  permission." 

The  young  woman  lifted  her  head.  Her  face 
brightened.  Laying  her  hand  caressingly  upon  his 
knee,  she  murmured  faintly  : 

"Father  wouldn't  oppose  our  marriage,  Ross, 
if  you  would  quit  your  roving  ways,  give  up  your 
Indian  friends  and  rough  associates,  and  settle  down 
to  work.  He  thinks  you  shiftless  —  that  you 
wouldn't  provide  well  for  me  —  would  never  accu- 
mulate anything." 

Douglas's  handsome  face  flushed  hotly  as  he  asked: 

' '  Is  that  all  the  reason  your  father  had  for  order- 
ing me  from  his  door  and  forbidding  me  to  speak 
to  you  ? ' ' 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  she  replied 
hesitatingly  : 

"  Y-e-s  —  the  main  reason." 


24  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"And  the  others?" 

His  voice  was  hard  and  cold.  She  dropped  her 
lids,  but  did  not  answer. 

"Amy,  tell  me,"  he  cried  almost  fiercely,  catch- 
ing her  wrist  in  his  firm  grasp. 

' '  He  says  you  —  you  don't  —  know  who  your 
father  was, ' '  she  faltered. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face  aflame. 

"  It's  a  base  lie!  "  he  began.  Then  he  set  his 
teeth  and  paused  a  moment  to  regain  control  of 
himself.  Presently  he  resumed  in  quiet,  even  tones : 

' '  Amy,  it's  a  mistake.  I  know  who  my  father 
was  —  or  is,  if  he  be  alive.  I'm  no  illegitimate 
child.  My  mother's  husband  was  John  Douglas, 
an  intelligent  but  dissipated  and  unprincipled  man, 
who  abused  her — and  finally  deserted  her,  shortly 
after  I  was  born.  Her  health  rapidly  failed ;  and 
she  died  when  I  was  but  a  child,  leaving  me  to  the 
care  of  her  brother,  a  roving  and  adventurous  fur- 
trader.  This  uncle  wandered  from  tribe  to  tribe, 
bartering  arms,  blankets,  and  trinkets,  for  peltries. 
On  one  of  these  trading  trips  he  took  me  with  him 
—  when  I  was  eight  years  old  —  and  left  me  with 
the  Wyandots,  while  he  proceeded  on  his  journey. 
For  four  years  I  remained  with  the  savages.  They 
were  kind  to  me.  I  learned  their  ways ;  I  played 
with  the  youth  of  the  tribe.  I  absorbed  their  ideas, 
manners,  and  customs  —  I  fell  in  love  with  the  wild, 
free  life  of  the  redmen.  Then  my  uncle  again  put 
in  an  appearance,  and,  taking  me  with  him,  re- 
turned to  the  East. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  25 

"  There  he  placed  me  in  school;  and  again  disap- 
peared. Eight  years  passed  ;  and  in  all  that  time  I 
saw  nothing  of  my  relative  —  my  guardian.  At  last 
came  word  that  he  was  dead  —  and  that  I  was  pen- 
niless. I  left  school.  My  soul  hungered  for  love 
and  sympathy.  I  was  fatherless — motherless.  Of 
acquaintances,  I  had  many;  of  warm,  helpful  friends, 
I  had  none.  I  thought  of  my  old  friends,  the  Wy- 
andots.  I  made  my  way  westward,  rejoined  them 
—  and  was  received  with  open  arms.  But  a  change 
had  come  over  me.  I  had  the  instinct  and  tastes  of 
a  hunter  —  but  I  was  no  longer  a  young  savage. 
For  a  time  I  lived  with  the  Wyandots ;  but  I  spent 
my  time  in  hunting  and  in  trading  among  the  red 
hunters  of  Ohio  and  the  lakes.  I  made  money.  I 
learned  three  or  four  Indian  tongues —  I  acquainted 
myself  with  all  the  arts  and  wiles  of  the  different 
tribes.  But  at  last  the  white  blood  in  my  veins  as- 
serted itself.  I  began  to  long  for  the  companion- 
ship of  my  own  people.  So  I  established  myself 
here  at  Franklinton  and  took  up  land.  But  I  have 
continued  to  trade  among  the  Indians  —  I  have  re- 
tained the  friendship  of  the  Wyandots.  I  have 
made  more  money  in  one  month  than  your  father 
and  George  Hilliard  have  made  in  twelve.  A  year 
ago  I  met  and  loved  you.  It's  needless  to  say 
more  —  you  know  the  rest. ' ' 

She  had  been  watching  his  face  intently  and 
drinking  in  every  word  he  said.  Now  she  clasped 
her  hands  and  murmured  pleadingly  : 

' '  Oh,  Ross !     If  only  you  will  tell  father  what 


26  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

you  have  told  me,  all  will  be  well.  He'll  give 
his  consent  to  our  marriage  —  I  know  he  will. ' ' 

"  As  soon  as  I  return,  I'll  do  so,  Amy." 

"  No — no  !"  she  pouted  prettily.  "  Now  is  the 
time.  Come  to  the  house  with  me  at  once." 

"I  cannot,  dear.  Be  patient  a  little  while.  As 
you  say  —  all  will  be  well." 

Quickly  arising  to  her  feet  and  catching  him  by 
the  arm,  she  cried  playfully  : 

' '  You  shall  not  go.     See  —  I'll  hold  you. ' ' 

He  bent  and  kissed  her.  Then  slipping  his  arm 
around  her  yielding  waist  he  remarked  : 

"  Amy,  there  is  another  reason  why  I  should  go 
to  fight  against  the  allied  tribes.  Leatherlips,  the 
foster-father  of  Bright  Wing,  was  one  of  my  stead- 
fast friends.  As  you  know,  he  was  brutally  mur- 
dered a  year  ago  last  June,  at  the  instigation  of  the 
Shawnee  Prophet.  His  death  should  be  avenged. ' ' 

A  startled  look  crept  into  her  eyes,  and  involun- 
tarily she  shrunk  from  him  as  she  whispered  trem- 
ulously: 

"Ross — Ross!  Surely  you  don't  mean  to  do 
murder!  You're  not  an  Indian.  I'm  almost  afraid 
of  you." 

With  a  merry  laugh  he  caught  her  to  him  and 
answered  : 

"What  a  timid  little  body  you  are,  Amy.  Of 
course  I  don't  mean  to  do  murder.  But  I  do 
mean  that  the  Prophet  shall  be  shorn  of  his  power 
to  do  further  mischief,  to  commit  further  acts  of 
violence  —  and  that  I  should  help  to  do  it. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  27 

And" — in  a  low,  fierce  tone — "if  ever  I  meet 
him  in  open  battle  one  of  us  will  die.  Bid  me  good- 
by  now.  I  must  be  going  —  my  comrades  are 
waiting  for  me. ' ' 

But  she  burst  into  tears  and  clung  to  him,  sob- 
bing : 

"Don't  go  —  don't  go,  Ross!  For  some  reason 
I  feel  —  that  you  will  not  come  back  —  to  me,  that 
I  shall  —  shall  be  forced  to  —  to  marry  George  Hil- 
liard." 

' '  There  —  there,  child  !  "  he  interrupted  sooth- 
ingly. "  Now  dry  your  eyes  and  kiss  me  farewell. 
Indeed  I  am  tarrying  too  long." 

She  drew  herself  erect  and,  dashing  aside  the 
tears  that  blinded  her,  said  icily : 

"In  spite  of  all  I  have  said  and  done,  you're 
going,  are  you?  " 

"I  Ve  told  you  over  and  over  that  I  must  go, 
Amy,"  he  replied  sadly. 

"  Then  go !  "  she  cried  angrily.  "  It  shows  how 
much  you  think  of  me  —  to  leave  me  here  in  a  hell 
upon  earth  —  without  a  mother  to  sympathize  with 
me  or  advise  me.  I  will  marry  George  Hilliard  at 
once  —  and  have  done  with  it. ' ' 

' '  Amy  !  Amy  !  "  he  whispered  reprovingly.  ' '  You 
don't  mean  that;  you're  angry.  Wait " 

The  sentence  was  left  unfinished.  It  was  cut 
short  with  a  suddenness  that  almost  took  away 
Douglas's  breath.  By  an  unseen  and  unexpected 
power,  the  lovers  were  caught  and  violently  flung 
apart.  Two  armed  men  stood  between  them.  One 


28  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

was  a  tall,  rawboned  man  whose  hatchet  face  was 
outlined  by  a  mane  of  iron-gray  hair.  The  other 
was  younger  —  short,  thickset,  and  red-faced. 

The  older  man's  countenance  was  livid  with  rage. 
His  lips  worked  —  but  no  words  came  forth.  At 
last  he  managed  to  articulate  : 

"  Git  off  my  land  instantly,  Ross  Douglas  —  you 
infernal  sneak  an'  scoundrel !  Tryin'  to  steal  my 
daughter,  was  you?  There's  no  man  about  you! 
Didn't  I  order  you  from  the  place  an'  forbid  you 
speakin'  to  her  ?  Go,  I  say  !  Go  before  I  shoot  you 
—  you  sneakin'  dog  !  " 

A  dangerous  light  blazed  in  the  settler's  eye's. 
He  gripped  his  gun  and  shook  it  menacingly  at 
Douglas.  The  latter  was  unarmed  —  except  the 
hunting-knife  in  his  belt  —  having  left  his  rifle  in 
the  canoe.  However,  he  composedly  folded  his 
arms  and  casting  a  pitying  glance  at  Amy,  who  had 
dropped  to  the  ground  and  was  weeping  bitterly, 
said  quietly  : 

"  Mr.  Larkin,  I  don't  merit  the  harsh  words 
and  rude  treatment  you  have  accorded  me.  I  have 
done  nothing  dishonorable  —  nothing  beneath  the 
dignity  of  a  gentleman.  I  love  your  daughter; 
she  loves  me.  When  you  ordered  me  from  your 
house  and  forbid  me  to  hold  further  intercourse 
with  Amy,  I  told  you  that  I  wouldn't  obey  your 
mandate  —  that  I  would  meet  her  clandestinely.  I 
have  done  so.  Just  now  I  came  to  bid  her  good-by. 
I'm  on  my  way  to  join  Harrison's  army  at  Vin- 
cennes.  When  I  return  I'll  call  upon  you  and 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  29 

ask  you  for  her  hand  in  marriage.  If  at  that  time 
you  refuse  my  request,  I'll  carry  her  off  before 
your  eyes." 

"  You  impudent  hound  !  "  snorted  the  irate  Lar- 
kin.  "I  have  a  notion  to  shoot  you  where  you 
stand." 

"Have  a  care,  Mr.  I,arkin,"  Douglas  replied 
coolly.  "  I  don't  care  to  have  a  physical  encoun- 
ter with  my  future  father-in-law.  But  if  you  offer 
me  violence,  your  gray  hairs  will  not  save  you, 
I  warn  you.  I  have  no  fear  of  you  or  your  weapon. 
But  I'm  trespassing,  and  will  leave  your  place 
and  your  presence." 

Ross's  cool  assurance  awed  Larkin  to  silence.  A 
moment  he  looked  at  the  young  man  in  utter 
amazement.  Then  he  turned  and  bent  over  his 
daughter  and,  lifting  her  to  her  feet,  cried  roughly  : 

"  Come,  my  young  lady,  an'  go  to  the  house  with 
me.  I'll  see  to  it  that  you  don't  meet  that  scala- 
wag ag'in." 

"  Good-by,  Amy,"  Ross  called  as  he  turned  to 
leave  the  spot. 

"  Good-by,  Ross,"  she  sobbed  faintly.  "  I  didn't 
mean  what  I  said.  I'll  —  I'll  —  be  true " 

But  her  father  clapped  his  hand  over  her  mouth 
and  shouted  over  his  shoulder  : 

"George  Hilliard,  why  don't  you  break  every 
bone  in  that  insolent  scoundrel's  body  ?  " 

Up  to  this  time  the  thickset  man  had  maintained 
a  discreet  silence.  Now  he  felt  called  upon  to 
defend  himself  against  the  imputation  of  cowardice, 


30  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

implied    in    parkin's    question.       So    he    replied 
valiantly : 

"That's  just  what  I'm  going  to  do  if  he  don't 
make  himself  scarce  around  here  iu  about  ten 
seconds. ' ' 

These  words  fell  upon  Ross  Douglas's  ears  and 
roused  him  to  instant  fury.  He  had  borne  much  — 
he  could  bear  no  more.  Whirling  in  his  tracks,  he 
dealt  Hilliard  a  blow  that  felled  him  to  the  earth. 

For  a  few  seconds  the  prostrate  man  glared  con- 
fusedly around  him.  Then  with  cat-like  quickness 
he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  threw  his  gun  to  his 
shoulder.  He  was  insane  with  rage.  The  light  of 
murder  twinkled  in  his  small  pig-like  eyes.  His 
finger  was  upon  the  trigger  of  his  weapon.  But  he 
encountered  Ross's  look  of  steadfast  courage  —  and 
hesitated. 

"Shoot  him!"  parkin  bellowed.  "Shoot  him 
in  self-defense  ! " 

Hilliard  bent  his  head  and  squinted  along  the 
gleaming  barrel  of  his  rifle.  Douglas  whipped  out 
his  knife  and  sprang  toward  his  adversary.  But 
quick  as  were  his  movements,  he  would  have  been 
too  late  had  not  a  trusty  friend  been  at  hand. 

With  a  low,  fierce  growl  Duke  bounded  from  the 
underbrush,  where  he  had  been  crouching,  and 
landed  full  upon  Hilliard' s  chest.  The  gun 
cracked,  but  the  bullet  sped  harmlessly  over  Ross's 
head.  Amy  ran  screaming  toward  the  cabin.  Her 
father,  with  a  muttered  oath,  strode  toward  the 
scene  of  conflict.  Duke  sought  to  fasten  his  fangs 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  31 

in  Hilliard's  throat.  Gun,  man,  and  dog  went  to 
the  ground  together. 

"Loose  him,  Duke!  Loose  him!"  Douglas 
commanded. 

The  hound  obeyed,  and  crept  whining  to  his 
master's  feet.  Blood  was  streaming  from  Hilliard's 
shoulder,  where  the  dog  had  set  his  teeth. 

"  Curse  you  !  I'll  finish  you  !  "  Larkin  shrieked 
frantically,  flinging  his  piece  to  his  shoulder  and 
taking  deliberate  aim  at  Ross. 

"Go  slow  there,  ol'  man,  'r  you'll  never  know 
what  hurt  you,"  said  a  drawling  voice.  "Drop 
that  gun  an'  behave  y'rself,  'r  I'll  put  a  chunk  o' 
cold  lead  into  you —  I  will,  by  Hanner  Ann  !  " 

And  two  shimmering  gun-barrels  protruded 
from  the  green  foliage. 

Larkin  obeyed,  and  leaned  against  a  sapling, 
panting.  With  some  difficulty  Hilliard  got  upon 
his  feet.  His  flabby  face  was  pale ;  his  hairy 
hands  were  trembling. 

Farley  and  Bright  Wing  stepped  into  the  glade. 

"  Mr.  Larkin,"  Douglas  remarked  calmly,  "I'm 
very  sorry  this  occurred.  You'd  better  take  your 
comrade  to  the  house  and  dress  his  wounds.  I'm 
off." 

Followed  by  his  two  friends  and  his  dog,  the 
young  man  silently  made  his  way  back  to  the 
canoe.  A  few  minutes  later  they  were  rapidly 
paddling  down  the  stream. 

The  day  was  excessively  hot.  The  three  men 
maintained  a  moody  silence,  as  with  steady,  sweep- 


32  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

ing  strokes  they  shot  the  dugout  forward.  The 
sweat  trickled  in  rivulets  down  Farley's  furrowed 
face.  Presently  he  muttered  in  an  undertone  : 

"  S'pect  I'd  'ave  done  better,  if  I'd  shot  that  cuss 
of  a  Hilliard  —  yes,  an'  ol'  Sam  L,arkin,  too. 
They  deserved  to  die  anyway  —  the  dirty  cowards  ! 
An'  they'll  make  no  end  o'  bother  fer  Ross  —  'r 
I'm  badly  mistaken.  An'  they'll  torment  that  lit- 
tle gal  to  death,  purty  near.  I  can  see  it  all. 
Ther's  trouble  ahead  fer  somebody  —  an'  likely  it's 
fer  Ross  Douglas.  Well,  it  all  comes  o'  fallin'  in 
love  with  a  few  pounds  o'  the  female  gender.  An' 
hain't  I  had  the  'xperience?  L,ordy  !  I  should  say 
sol" 


CHAPTER  II. 

AWAGON-and-pack-train  was  slowly  winding  its 
way  through  the  trackless  wilds  of  the  valley 
of  the  Wabash.  Like  some  monstrous  ser- 
pent, it  dragged  its  sinuous  body  along  the  margin 
of  the  boundless  prairie  that  stretched  away  to  the 
north  and  west,  and  wormed  itself  in  and  out 
among  the  clumps  of  scrubby  trees  that  marked  the 
course  of  the  stream.  Ahead  of  it  rode  a  compact 
body  of  mounted  men ;  and  on  both  sides  and 
behind,  marched  a  straggling  mass  of  soldiers. 

The  wheels  of  the  heavily  laden  vehicles  half 
buried  themselves  in  the  soft  loam  of  the  valley. 
' '  Squeak  !  Creak  ! ' '  were  the  tortured  cries  of  the 
wooden  axles.  Whips  cracked  and  drivers  swore  ; 
horses  neighed  and  oxen  bellowed.  William  Henry 
Harrison,  governor  of  Indiana  Territory,  was  on 
his  way  to  the  Prophet's  Town,  to  make  peace  or 
war  with  its  inhabitants. 

It  was  the  fifth  of  November,  1811  ;  and  the 
sunless  day  was  drawing  to  a  close.  The  wind, 
biting  and  keen,  swept  across  the  prairie  from  the 
northwest,  bringing  with  it  driving  clouds  of  mist- 
like  rain  and  stinging  snow-pellets.  The  officers 
and  mounted  men  buttoned  their  coats  closely 
about  them  and,  dropping  their  chins  upon  their 
3  (33) 


34  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

breasts,  rode  forward  in  silence.  The  weary  sol- 
diers laboriously  trudged  onward  —  and  grumbled. 
The  veiled  sun  sank  lower  and  lower  in  the  west. 
The  wind,  increasing  in  force,  grew  colder.  Dark 
shadows  stole  out  of  the  scrub  and  threw  them- 
selves across  the  prairie.  Night  was  settling  down. 

All  through  the  summer  and  fall,  the  heterogene- 
ous band  of  Indians  at  the  Prophet's  Town  upon 
the  Upper  Wabash  had  increased  in  numbers.  Bold 
and  savage  warriors  from  various  tribes  —  prompted 
by  the  words  and  example  of  the  eloquent  and 
sagacious  Tecumseh,  and  inspired  by  the  fanatical 
zeal  of  the  cunning  and  bloodthirsty  Prophet  — 
had  taken  up  the  hatchet  and  expressed  a  readiness 
to  make  war  upon  the  Americans.  Aided  and 
abetted  by  the  British  —  who  still  manifested  a 
rancorous  hostility  toward  the  United  States  —  they 
had  made  petty  incursions  into  the  defenseless 
settlements,  bent  on  pillage  and  murder. 

For  several  years  the  wily  leader  of  the  warlike 
Shawnees,  Tecumseh,  had  been  visiting  the  tribes 
of  the  north,  west,  and  south,  urging  them  to  form 
a  confederacy  that  would  be  powerful  enough  to 
eject  the  Americans  from  the  Mississippi  and  Ohio 
valleys.  He  was  a  brave,  resolute,  and  ambitious 
man  ;  and  had  faith  in  the  feasibility  and  success  of 
his  project. 

Harrison,  as  governor  of  Indiana  Territory,  had 
become  aware  of  Tecumseh's  scheme  and  had 
realized  the  great  danger  that  threatened  the 
growing  but  unprotected  settlements,  and  had 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  35 

taken  prompt  measures.  Empowered  by  his  com- 
mission, he  had  held  a  council  with  Tecumseh 
and  a  number  of  his  followers,  at  Vincennes,  in 
1810.  But  the  haughty  Shawnee  had  retired  from 
the  governor's  presence,  angry  and  defiant.  Then 
Harrison  had  apprised  the  government  at  Philadel- 
phia of  the  state  of  affairs  and  had  asked  for  aid. 
The  Fourth  regiment  of  regulars,  under  Colonel 
Boyd,  had  been  sent  to  him.  And  with  these 
troops  and  several  companies  of  Kentucky  and 
Indiana  militia  —  nine  hundred  men  in  all  —  he  had 
left  Vincennes,  on  the  twenty-eighth  of  September, 
and  taken  up  his  march  for  the  Prophet's  Town, 
resolved  to  make  a  lasting  peace  or  strike  a  telling 
blow,  while  Tecumseh  was  absent  on  a  mission  to 
the  southern  tribes. 

About  seventy  miles  up  the  Wabash  he  had  built 
Fort  Harrison.  Then,  on  the  twenty-ninth  of 
October,  he  had  left  the  place  garrisoned,  and  had 
resumed  his  journey  toward  the  Prophet's  Town. 

He  was  now  moving  along  the  northwestern 
bank  of  the  Wabash,  a  short  distance  from  the 
village  he  sought. 

The  long  line  of  vehicles  and  troops  came  to  a 
sudden  stop.  Tired  horses  lowered  their  heads  to 
the  cutting  blast  and  shivered.  Weary  oxen  leaned 
heavily  against  the  wagon-tongues.  Footsore  sol- 
diers threw  themselves  upon  the  damp  ground  and 
feelingly  rubbed  their  aching  limbs.  Drivers 
stamped  their  feet  and  slapped  their  palms  to- 
gether to  restore  the  circulation  to  their  benumbed 


36  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

members.     Far  down  toward  the  rear  of  the  line,  a 
militiaman  was  singing : 

"I  left  my  home  in  ol'  Kaintuck, 
An'  my  wife  an'  babes  behind  me; 
An'  if  the  Injins  gits  my  scalp, 
My  folks  '11  never  find  me." 

"An'  by  the  everlastin'  Kinnikinnick,  I  don't 
b'lieve  his  fam'ly  'Id  grieve  much  'bout  him,  if 
he's  in  the  habit  o'  singin'  that  tune  'round 
home  ! ' '  growled  a  tall  angular  ox-driver,  resting 
his  arm  upon  the  yoke  and  whipping  the  water 
from  his  fur-cap,  with  the  butt  of  his  gad.  ' '  Did 
anybody  on  earth  ever  hear  such  a  dang  cater- 
waullin'  ?  Whew,  but  I'm  cold  an'  hungry  ! 

"  Drivin'  oxen  ain't  to  my  likin' — not,  by  a 
dang  sight !  But  here  I  am  doin'  menial  servitude 
fer  my  country,  when  I  never  disgraced  myself  by 
doin'  anything  o'  the  kind  fer  Joe  Farley.  'Pears 
that  I've  become  the  plaything  o'  fate  —  it  does,  by 
Melindy  !  Come  out  here  to  fight  Injins  an'  help 
save  the  gover'ment ;  an'  they've  set  me  to 
whackin'  bulls.  By  my  gran'mother's  goggles,  I 
ain't  a-goin'  to  stand  it !  I'll  desert  an'  go  over  to 
the  redskins,  bag  an'  baggage  !  'Tain't  fair  — 
'tain't.  Jest  'cause  a  driver  gits  sick  an'  has  to  be 
left  at  Fort  Harrison,  they  take  an'  put  me  in  his 
place.  I  ort  to  be  out  scoutin'  with  Ross 
Douglas  an'  Bright  Wing.  An'  I  would  'ave  been 
—  dang  it !  —  but  my  limber  tongue  got  the  best  o' 
me  an'  let  out  that  I'd  druv  oxen,  w'en  a  boy. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  37 

"Well,  ther's  one  consolation,  anyhow.  We're 
purty  near  to  the  end  o'  our  journey ;  an'  then  I'll 
git  to  tote  a  rifle  ag'in  an'  feel  like  a  man.  Whoa, 
there,  you  brindle-hided  brute  !  What  in  the  dang- 
uation  're  you  tryin'  to  do?  Think  you  can  crawl 
through  that  bow  ?  Whoa,  I  say  !  Bless  my  peep- 
ers, if  I  ever  did  see  such  a  c'ntrary  critter,  any- 
how !  Whoa,  now  ! ' ' 

And  Farley  applied  the  gad  to  the  ribs  of  the 
lank  ox,  as  though  he  were  energetically  beating  a 
bass  drum. 

At  the  head  of  the  long  column,  a  little  knot  of 
mounted  officers  were  holding  a  consultation  in  low 
tones.  The  central  figure  of  the  group  was  a  tall, 
spare  man  of  middle  age.  He  sat  his  horse  —  a 
wiry  chestnut  sorrel  of  trim  form  and  slender  limbs 
—  with  the  ease  and  grace  of  a  practiced  and  fear- 
less horseman.  His  nose  was  large ;  his  smooth- 
shaven  features  were  irregular.  But  his  face  was 
redeemed  from  plainness  by  a  pair  of  dark,  penetra- 
ting eyes  and  a  mouth  indicative  of  courage  and 
resolution.  Intelligence  and  benevolence  beamed 
from  his  rugged  countenance.  He  wore  the  uni- 
form of  the  United  States  army  ;  and  his  arms  con- 
sisted of  a  brace  of  pistols  and  a  sword. 

Shaking  the  rain-drops  from  his  military  cocked 
hat,  he  replaced  it  atop  his  dark  wavy  hair  and 
remarked  : 

"I'm  loath  to  camp  here  —  especially  as  none  of 
the  scouts  have  returned  to  inform  us  of  the  de- 
signs and  movements  of  the  enemy.  We  are  near- 


38  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

ing  the  hostile  village,  I'm  certain.  It  can't  be 
many  miles  away.  Here  we  have  the  open  plain  on 
three  sides  of  us.  We  should  be  unprotected  from 
a  surprise  ;  and  as  you  well  know,  Colonel  Boyd,  a 
surprise  is  what  we  have  to  fear  —  a  surprise  in  the 
early  morning  when  the  troops  are  soundly  sleep- 
ing. I  would  prefer  a  more  sheltered  place.  And 
it  gives  me  some  concern,  that  none  of  the  scouts 
have  yet  returned.  I  can't  understand  it." 

"May  I  offer  a  suggestion,  governor? "  asked 
the  man  addressed  as  Colonel  Boyd,  gracefully 
saluting  his  superior  officer. 

' '  Certainly. ' '  And  Governor  Harrison  bowed 
low  over  the  pommel  of  his  saddle. 

' '  Then,  this  is  what  I  would  suggest :  That  we 
form  a  semi-circular  barricade  of  our  wagons,  and 
encamp  under  their  cover.  Also,  that  we  double 
the  usual  number  of  our  sentries.  I  like  the  site 
no  better  than  you  do,  but  men  and  teams  are  ex- 
hausted—  and  we  can  go  no  farther.  We  must 
make  the  best  of  it." 

"Very  well,"  Harrison  answered  decidedly.  "I 
don't  like  the  plan.  But  perhaps  extra  vigilance 
will  save  us  from  a  night-attack ;  that  is,  if  the 
Indians  be  in  the  vicinity  —  which  we  do  not  know. 
Give  the  command,  colonel.  The  men  are  im- 
patient." 

This  order  the  governor  addressed  to  Colonel 
Owen,  one  of  his  aids.  The  officer  whirled  his 
horse  and  dashed  away.  At  that  moment  two  men, 
followed  by  a  large  dog,  emerged  from  the  fringe 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  39 

of  woodland,  and  with  rapid  strides  approached 
the  group  of  officers. 

"Whom  have  we  here?"  muttered  Harrison, 
straining  his  eyes  through  the  semi-gloom.  "Ah  ! 
scouts.  Now  we  shall  know  something  positive  of 
the  savages." 

As  the  two  shadowy  figures  drew  near,  the  gov- 
ernor spurred  forward  to  meet  them.  The  other 
officers  followed  his  example ;  and  soon  the  two 
scouts  were  surrounded  by  a  ring  of  jingling  spurs 
and  rattling  scabbards.  One  of  the  newcomers 
stopped  suddenly  and  looked  hurriedly  about  him, 
as  though  seeking  a  chance  to  escape.  The  other 
advanced  boldly  until  he  stood  at  the  commander's 
side.  Then  he  lifted  his  hat  and  announced  with 
quiet  dignity : 

' '  Governor,  I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you  that 
my  companion  and  myself  have  performed  our  mis- 
sion, and  are  ready  to  report." 

"Who  are  you?"  inquired  the  commander, 
bending  forward  and  peering  into  the  speaker's 
face. 

' '  Ross  Douglas  —  a  scout  in  your  service. ' ' 

"Yes,  to  be  sure,"  Harrison  answered.  "I 
should  have  known  you  from  your  manner.  But 
the  darkness  bothered  me.  And  your  compan- 
ion?" 

"Bright  Wing,  the  Wyandot." 

"  I  am  ready  to  receive  your  report." 

"Here?" 

' '  Yes  —  and  at  once, ' ' 


40  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"We  went  up  the  valley  as  you  directed.  We 
continued  our  course  until  we  came  in  sight  of  the 
Prophet's  Town " 

"You  are  sure  that  you  made  no  mistake  —  that 
you  saw  the  Prophet's  Town?"  Harrison  inter- 
rupted. 

"We  made  no  mistake,"  Douglas  replied  a  little 
stiffly. 

Without  heeding  the  young  scout's  tone  or  man- 
ner, the  governor  continued : 

' '  And  how  far  are  we  from  it  ?  " 

"  About  ten  miles." 

' '  Did  you  encounter  any  savages  ? ' ' 

' '  A  few  —  when  we  were  within  a  short  distance 
of  the  place." 

"You  saw  no  large  body  of  Indians  —  nothing 
like  a  war-party?'" 

"None." 

' '  How  did  those  you  saw  deport  themselves  ? ' ' 

"They  fled." 

' '  In  the  direction  of  their  village  ? ' ' 

"They  did." 

"  In  what  language  did  you  address  them?  " 

"We  tried  several  different  Indian  tongues." 

' '  Judging  from  what  you  know  of  Indian  char- 
acter, and  what  you  have  seen  to-day,  Douglas,  do 
you  think  the  savages  desire  peace  or  war  ?  ' ' 

' '  War, ' '  Ross  answered  promptly  and  emphatic- 
ally. 

"The  reasons  for  your  opinion,  if  you  please," 
the  commander  said  quietly. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  41 

"  Had  they  desired  peace,"  was  the  quick  reply, 
' '  a  deputation  of  their  chiefs  —  headed  by  the 
Prophet  himself  —  would  have  met  you  ere  this. 
They  have  been  aware  of  your  coming.  They 
mean  to  give  you  battle. ' ' 

Several  of  the  officers  nodded  their  heads  in  ac- 
quiescence of  the  opinion  expressed,  but  the  gov- 
ernor murmured  in  a  low.  musing  tone  : 

"You  may  be  right,  Douglas;  but  I  can  hardly 
believe  that  you  are." 

Then  huskily,  a  shade  of  alarm  in  his  voice  : 

"You  don't  think  they  will  attack  us  here  — 
under  cover  of  the  darkness  ?  ' ' 

"I  do  not." 

"Very  well.  I  believe  that's  all.  Call  at  my 
tent  early  in  the  morning.  I  want  you  and  the 
Wyandot  to  act  as  interpreters,  as  we  approach  the 
town.  But  why  doesn't  he  come  forward  —  why 
does  he  stand  off  by  himself  ?  ' ' 

"He  is  an  Indian,"  Ross  answered  simply. 

Smiling  at  the  reply  he  had  received,  the  gov- 
ernor turned  and  rode  away  in  the  gathering  dark- 
ness, accompanied  by  his  staff. 

"  Bright  Wing,"  Douglas  called. 

"  Ugh  !  Me  here,"  the  Wyandot  answered,  glid- 
ing to  his  friend's  side. 

"Where  is  Duke?  "  Ross  asked,  glancing  around. 

"  Duke  him  gone  hunt  meat  —  him  big  heap  hun- 
gry dog,"  was  the  guttural  reply. 

"Well,  I'm  big  heap  hungry  myself,"  Douglas 
laughed  as  he  shifted  his  gun  from  one  shoulder  to 


42  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

the  other.  ' '  Come ;  let's  find  Joe  and  have  some 
supper." 

By  this  time  the  wagons  had  been  arranged  in  a 
semicircle  inclosing  several  acres  of  prairie.  Sol- 
diers were  busy  erecting  tents  and  lighting  camp- 
fires.  Teamsters  were  watering  their  jaded  beasts 
at  the  river  and  feeding  them  in  the  inclosure. 
The  two  scouts  threaded  their  way  among  the  mass 
of  men  and  animals,  until  they  reached  the  farther 
end  of  the  area. 

There  Farley  had  picketed  his  two  yoke  of  oxen, 
and,  assisted  by  a  number  of  militiamen,  was  unload- 
ing his  vehicle.  Their  camp-fire  blazed  and  crackled 
cheerily ;  and  about  it  a  half-dozen  soldiers  were 
preparing  to  cook  their  evening  meal.  As  Douglas 
and  Bright  Wing  drew  near  they  heard  Joe  say- 
ing whimsically  : 

"Go  'way,  Duke,  an'  behave  y'rself.  Have 
some  manners,  an'  wait  till  y'r  victuals  is  cooked. 
Drat  it  all,  I  never  did  see  such  a  hungry  dog ! 
I've  give  him  'bout  two  pound  o'  raw  meat,  an' 
he's  lickin'  his  chops  fer  more.  By  cracky  !  If  he 
gits  much  hungrier,  hell  eat  me  an'  the  oxen. 
Git  out  o'  the  road,  you  rascal,  'r  I'll  fall  over  you. 
Wher've  you  been  all  day  —  an'  wher's  y'r  master  ? 
No  use  to  roll  y'r  eyes  an'  whine  —  I  ain't  a-goin' 
to  feed  you  no  more.  I  wish  you  could  talk  —  I 
do,  by  Samanthy !  It  makes  me  feel  sort  o'  creepy 
an'  uneasy  —  you  a-comin'  in  here,  an'  no  sign  o' 
y'r  master  'r  the  Injin. 

"  Ding-it-all-to-dangnation  !     Why   can't  a  dog 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  43 

talk?  They've  got  sense  an'  they've  got  souls, 
an'  they  ort  to  have  the  power  o'  speech.  Do 
git  out  from  under  my  feet,  'r  you  an'  me'll  have 
a  fallin'  out  d'rectly.  Hello  !  Here  comes  y'r 
pardners." 

"  Good  evening,  Joe,"  Douglas  cried.  "  What's 
the  prospect  for  a  hot  supper?  " 

"Fair  to  middlin',''  Farley  answered,  a  comical 
expression  overspreading  his  ugly  features.  ' '  One 
o'  the  fellers  is  mixin'  up  a  corn  pone,  an'  we've 
got  plenty  o'  meat  an'  coffee.  But  you  come  jest 
in  the  nick  o'  time  —  you  did,  by  ginger!  " 

"Why  so?" 

Seating  himself  by  the  fire,  Ross  smiled  as  he 
extended  his  hands  toward  the  red  blaze. 

"Well,  you  see,  it's  this  Way,  Ross  Douglas," 
Farley  replied,  winking  at  the  militiamen:  "Y'r 
dog  come  in  with  such  a  powerful  appetite  that  he 
was  likely  to  eat  us  out  o'  house  an'  home.  I  had 
to  choke  him  off  'r  ther'  wouldn't  'ave  been  any- 
thing left  fer  us  human  critters.  An'  I've  been 
watchin'  him  keerful  ever  sence,  fer  fear  he'd  begin 
on  me  'r  the  oxen.  You  ort  to  give  him  somethin' 
to  improve  his  eatin'  capacity,  Ross  —  you  re'ly 
ort.  I'm  'feard  he's  goin'  into  a  decline." 

Douglas  rubbed  his  hands  and  joined  in  the 
laugh  that  went  around.  Bright  Wing  sniffed  the 
savory  odors  of  the  cooking  food  and  grunted  : 

' '  Duke  him  much  smart  dog  —  him  smell  meat 
far  off.  Him  find  it  soon  —  very  quick.  Him 
walk  far  —  work  hard.  Then  him  eat. ' ' 


,  44  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Again  the  militiamen  roared  in  glee.  The  pros- 
pect of  a  warm  supper  and  a  night's  rest  had  put 
them  in  a  good  humor.  The  Wyandot's  stern  vis- 
age relaxed  into  a  smile ;  but  Joe  cried  in  an  injured 
tone  : 

"Well,  if  workin'  hard  gives  anybody  a  right  to 
eat,  I  ort  to  eat  'bout  a  ton  to-night.  A  man  that's 
tramped  twenty  miles  in  the  cold  an'  wet  —  an' 
whacked  bulls  every  step  o'  the  way — ort  to  feed 
on  the  fat  o'  the  land.  Nothin's  too  good  fer  him. 
He's  earned  a  right  to  go  to  glory  —  wher'  ther' 
ain't  no  fightin'  Injins  n'r  drivin'  oxen,  if  I've  been 
rightly  informed. 

"But  still  things  ain't  as  bad  as  they  might  be. 
Mortals  ortn't  to  complain,  fer  fear  things  might 
git  worse.  An'  nobody  ever  hears  me  doin'  it. 
The  only  time  in  my  whole  life  that  I  ever  give 
way  to  a  fit  o'  complainin',  was  when  a  dozen 
women  was  wantin'  to  marry  me  at  once  —  an'  I 
had  to  leave  the  settlement  to  git  red  of  'em.  Gol- 
fer-socks !  I  never  saw  the  like  —  I  never  did. 
They  was  jest  crazy  over  my  beauty.  But  ther's 
no  use  in  rakin'  up  the  past  an'  makin'  you  fellers 
feel  sorry.  From  the  way  that  pone  smells  it's  git- 
tin'  done.  Le's  have  supper.  Whew !  But  the 
steam  o'  that  coffee  tickles  a  feller's  nose.  Eat, 
drink,  an'  be  merry,  I  say ;  fer  to-morrer  the  red- 
skins may  have  our  scalps  an'  the  buzzards  be 
pickin'  our  bones." 

The  hungry  scouts  and  militiamen  needed  no 
second  invitation.  Seating  themselves  about  the 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  45 

camp-fire,  they  ate  and  drank  with  a  relish  born  of 
exercise  in  the  open  air.  After  they  had  finished, 
and  filled  and  lighted  their  pipes,  they  talked  over 
the  events  of  the  day  and  speculated  about  what 
the  morrow  would  bring  forth. 

The  wind  fell  and  the  rain  ceased,  but  the  broken 
and  ragged  clouds  continued  to  scud  across  the 
starlit  heavens.  The  twinkling  camp-fires  burned 
low.  Drowsy  officers  sought  the  shelter  of  their 
tents.  Privates  rolled  themselves  in  their  blankets 
and,  with  their  feet  to  the  fading  embers,  fell 
asleep.  Silence  rested  upon  the  camp  —  broken 
only  by  the  faint  murmur  of  voices  here  and  there, 
or  the  restless  pawing  of  some  tethered  steed.  Be- 
yond the  barricade  of  wagons  a  double  line  of  sen- 
tries was  on  guard. 

One  by  one  Ross  Douglas's  companions  sought 
slumber.  At  last  he  alone  remained  sitting  by  the 
dying  fire,  his  hand  caressing  the  head  of  the  blood- 
hound that  lay  stretched  beside  him.  He  was 
thinking  of  Amy  —  the  girl  he  had  left  behind 
him. 

' '  Dear  child !  "  he  whispered  to  himself.  ' '  Per- 
haps I  should  not  have  left  her  as  I  did.  Her  lot 
will  not  be  pleasant,  I  fear.  But  I  couldn't  help 
it  —  I  felt  that  duty  called  me.  And  already  I 
have  been  able  to  render  some  slight  service  to  my 
country.  When  I  return  to  her,  I'll  devote  my 
life  to  her  care  and  comfort " 

He  broke  off  suddenly  and  flung  up  his  head, 
that  had  been  resting  upon  his  hand.  The  silence 


46  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

was   disturbed    by    the    voice    of    a    man    lustily 
singing : 

"  I  left  my  children  in  ol'  Kaintuck, 
In  the  cabin  with  the'r  mother  ; 

And  if  the  Injins  kills  the'r  pap, 
They'll  never  git  another." 

The  words  were  lamely  strung  together ;  and 
their  meaning  was  somewhat  ambiguous.  But 
Ross  was  in  a  sad  mood ;  and  the  homely  senti- 
ment of  the  improvised  song  touched  him. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  the  young  scout  muttered  under 
his  breath,  as  he  arose  and  sauntered  in  the  direc- 
tion whence  the  voice  came.  ' '  His  words  may  be 
premonitory  of  the  fate  that  awaits  him." 

After  walking  a  few  rods,  he  came  upon  the 
singer  seated  with  his  toes  in  the  ashes  of  an  ex- 
piring fire. 

' '  Hello,  friend  ! ' '  Ross  cried  cheerily.  ' '  You 
seem  to  be  suffering  from  an  attack  of  homesick- 
ness." 

"  Y-e-s,  I  am  a  little  homesick,"  the  fellow  ad- 
mitted reluctantly.  "You  see,  I  left  the  little 
woman  an'  the  babies  'way  down  in  ol'  Kaintuck. 
An'  sometimes  I  git  to  feelin'  that  somehow  I'll 
never  see  'em  ag'in."  — And  a  sob  was  in  his  big, 
coarse  voice. —  "I  thought  ev'rybody  was  asleep 
an'  I'd  jest  sing  a  bit.  Some  people  cries  when 
they're  sad  —  /  sing.  It  always  makes  me  feel 
better,  too.  Hope  I  didn't  wake  you  up  with  my 
bellerin'." 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  47 

"Oh,  no!"  Douglas  hastened  to  say.  "I  was 
awake.  But  probably  both  of  us  had  better  try 
to  sleep;  it  is  late." 

"  I  s'pect  we  had," — admitted  the  Kentuckian  — 
and  lapsed  into  silence. 

Ross  retraced  his  steps  to  his  own  fire  and  lay 
down.  But  restlessness  had  possession  of  him. 
Again  the  voice  of  the  singer  fell  upon  his  ears. 
This  time  Bright  Wing  opened  wide  his  black  eyes 
and  sat  erect ;  and  Farley  rolled  over,  grumbling 
sleepily : 

"Dodrot  the  critter!  Can't  he  quit  his  cater- 
waulin'  day  n'r  night?  He  ort  to  be  off  on  a 
desert  island  by  hisself." 

Joe's  voice  ended  in  a  long-drawn  snore.  Bright 
Wing  nodded  a  few  times  and  rolled  over  upon  the 
damp  ground,  his  head  wrapped  in  his  blanket. 
Douglas  threw  some  dry  wood  upon  the  fire  and 
continued  his  vigil.  An  hour  passed.  Utter  silence 
reigned  around  him.  Presently  the  bloodhound 
growled  ominously  and  sprang  to  his  feet.  Ross 
laid  a  restraining  hand  upon  him  and  commanded 
him  to  lie  down.  But  Duke  refused  to  obey.  In- 
stead he  broke  from  his  master's  grasp  and  disap- 
peared in  the  darkness. 

' '  What  does  it  mean  ? ' '  Ross  muttered  as  he 
hastily  arose  and  set  off  in  pursuit  of  the  animal. 

He  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  shadowy  form  of  the 
bloodhound  flitting  past  one  of  the  dying  camp- 
fires —  going  in  the  direction  of  the  river.  Si- 
lently but  swiftly  he  followed.  On  reaching 


48  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

the  bank  of  the  stream,  he  stopped  in  the  black 
shadows  of  the  trees  and  strained  his  eyes  and 
ears,  in  a  vain  effort  to  catch  sight  or  sound  of 
the  dog.  But  all  was  silent  blackness.  He  was 
on  the  point  of  calling  the  animal,  when  a  faint, 
buzzing  hum  greeted  his  sense  of  hearing.  The 
sound  was  a  series  of  whispered  syllables.  Drop- 
ping upon  hands  and  knees,  he  crept  toward  the 
river's  edge.  Suddenly  he  dropped  flat  upon  his 
face  and  lay  motionless.  The  sharp  snap  of  a 
breaking  twig,  a  few  feet  ahead  of  him,  had  warned 
him  that  he  was  close  upon  the  speakers.  Then  he 
distinctly  heard  these  words : 

"  Negro's  all  right — fix  him  in  the  morning  — 
no  failure  —  be  off. ' ' 

Immediately  following  this  came  the  sound  of 
rippling  water.  Some  small  object  was  stealthily 
pushing  away  from  the  shore.  Douglas  hastily 
arose  and  swiftly  but  silently  retraced  his  steps  to 
the  edge  of  the  timber.  There  he  met  Bright  Wing 
and  Farley. 

' '  What's  up  —  what' re  you  nosin'  'round  out  here 
fer?  ' '  inquired  the  latter  in  a  strident  whisper. 

"  Sh!  "  cautioned  Ross,  laying  his  hand  upon  Joe's 
arm. 

At  that  moment  a  man  stepped  from  the  edge 
of  the  wood  and  started  across  the  area,  toward 
the  barricade  of  wagons.  He  had  taken  but  a 
few  steps  in  the  open,  when  a  black  body  rose  in 
front  of  him;  and  Duke's  low,  threatening  growl 
broke  the  oppressive  stillness. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  49 

"Good  fellow,  good  fellow!"  the  man  said 
wheedlingly. 

But  Duke  refused  to  be  moved  from  his  path  or 
his  purpose.  The  man  attempted  to  go  around 
him,  but  the  sagacious  animal  headed  him  off  and 
growled  more  threateningly. 

' '  Curse  the  brute  ! ' '  the  man  muttered  fiercely. 
"  I  don't  dare  to  shoot  him  —  the  report  of  a  pis- 
tol would  bring  a  dozen  soldiers  to  the  spot.  What 
am  I  to  do  ?" 

Douglas  stepped  forward,  remarking  placidly  : 

"I  wouldn't  think  of  shooting  the  dog,  if  I 
were  you.  His  owner  might  raise  objections.  Per- 
haps I  can  help  you  out  of  your  dilemma." — Then 
to  the  dog  :  —  "  Here,  Duke  !  Come  here  and  lie 
down." 

Reluctantly  the  bloodhound  obeyed,  still  growl- 
ing. Farley  and  Bright  Wing  kept  their  distance. 
The  man  had  recoiled  a  step.  Now  he  recovered 
himself  and  mumbled  surlily  : 

' '  What's  you  an'  y'r  infernal  cur  out  here 
stoppin'  honest  people  fer?" 

' '  What  were  you  doing  at  the  river  shore  ?  " 
Ross  returned  boldly. 

The  man's  hand  flew  to  his  belt.  Dimly  Doug- 
las discerned  the  shadowy  movement.  Bright 
Wing's  eagle  eyes  saw  it,  too  ;  and  the  sharp  click 
of  his  flintlock  broke  the  stillness.  The  man  peered 
in  the  direction  whence  the  ominous  sound  came  — 
and  his  hand  dropped  to  his  side,  as  he  answered 
in  a  husky  voice  : 
4 


50  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

"I  was  jest  wanderin'  'round  the  camp  —  I 
couldn't  sleep.  I  was  goin'  back  to  my  place 
when  y'r  dog  stopped  me.  You'd  better  keep  the 
cross  brute  tied  up  o'  nights,  'r  somebody  '11  kill 
him.  Git  out  o'  my  way. " 

And  he  made  a  move  to  leave  the  spot. 

' '  Wait  a  moment, ' '  Douglas  requested.  ' '  When 
you  spoke  to  the  dog,  your  language  marked  you 
as  an  educated  gentleman.  Explain." 

"I  don't  have  to  give  no  explanations  to  you 
'bout  anything  —  you  ain't  no  officer,"  was  the 
defiant  reply. 

And  the  fellow  stalked  away  in  the  darkness. 

Farley  could  restrain  himself  no  longer.  Hurry- 
ing to  Douglas's  side,  he  asked  excitedly  : 

"What's  it  all  mean,  Ross?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  truthful  answer. 

"  Did  you  know  the  feller  ?  " 

' '  No  —  I  couldn't  see  his  face. ' ' 

"  He's  one  o'  the  soldiers,  ain't  he?  " 

' '  I  don't  know,  Joe, ' '  Ross  replied  rather  im- 
patiently. "  Let's  go  back  to  our  places." 

As  the  three  friends  moved  across  the  inclosed 
space,  toward  the  site  of  their  camp-fire,  they  were 
met  by  an  officer  of  the  guard,  who  cried  angrily  : 

"You  men  go  back  to  your  places  and  stay 
there.  You  know  it  is  against  the  regulations  to 
stray  about  the  camp  at  this  time  of  night.  The 
next  time  you  break  the  rules,  I'll  report  you." 

Farley  was  ready  to  fling  back  an  angry  retort, 
but  Douglas  headed  him  off  with  : 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  51 

"We  meant  no  harm,  lieutenant.  And  we 
thank  you  for  your  consideration." 

Much  mollified,  the  officer  resumed  his  rounds. 
In  silence  the  three  friends  reached  their  place  of 
bivouac,  and,  rolling  themselves  in  their  blankets, 
sought  repose.  But  what  Ross  Douglas  had  seen 
and  heard  rendered  him  still  more  wakeful.  He 
racked  his  brain  for  a  solution  of  the  mystery  — 
but  found  none.  Who  was  the  man  he  had  en- 
countered—  and  what  had  he  been  doing  at  the 
riverside  ? 

"Treachery  of  some  kind  is  afoot,"  the  young 
scout  murmured  to  himself.  ' '  Perhaps  I  should 
have  caught  the  mysterious  personage  and  delivered 
him  into  the  hands  of  the  guard.  But  what  could 
I  have  proven  —  what  charge  could  I  have  brought 
against  him?  And  now  I've  not  the  faintest  idea 
who  he  was,  whence  he  came,  or  what  was  his  pur- 
pose. He  tried  to  disguise  his  voice  ;  he  altered  his 
language.  He  sought  to  conceal  his  identity  —  and 
he  succeeded.  There  's  nothing  to  do  but  watch 
and  wait.  But  black  treachery  of  some  kind  is 
among  us." 

An  hour  passed.  Ross  Douglas's  lids  were  closed, 
and  his  breathing  was  deep  and  regular. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AT  FOUR  o'clock  the  next  morning  the  troops  — 
who  had  slept  upon  their  arms  —  were  roused 
from  slumber  and  ordered  to  fall  into  rank. 
There  they  stood,  guns  in  readiness,  until  the  first 
faint  rays  of  the  cold,  gray  dawn  dispelled  the  en- 
veloping darkness  and  revealed  near-by  objects  with 
clear-cut  distinctness.  Governor  Harrison  realized 
that  he  was  in  the  enemy's  country.  He  was  well 
aware  that  the  wily  foe  with  which  he  had  to  deal 
preferred  to  attack  in  the  early  morning.  He  had 
not  served  under  Mad  Anthony  Wayne  in  vain. 
Nor  had  he  forgotten  the  lesson  of  St.  Clair's  awful 
surprise  and  defeat. 

Immediately  after  the  order  to  break  ranks  was 
given,  the  soldiers  began  to  prepare  their  break- 
fasts, while  the  teamsters  went  to  water  and  feed 
their  pack  and  draught  animals.  The  camp-fires 
were  relighted,  and  soon  the  appetizing  odors  of 
cooking  food  pervaded  the  place. 

Douglas  left  his  companions  to  the  performance 
of  their  various  duties,  and  went  to  report  at  the 
tent  of  the  governor.  He  found  a  number  of 
scouts  —  who  had  returned  to  camp  too  late  to  re- 
port on  the  previous  evening  —  in  conversation 

(52) 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  53 

with  the  commander  and  his  staff.  Ross  took  up 
a  position  near  the  door  of  the  tent,  to  wait  until 
the  others  should  finish  their  business  and  take 
their  departure. 

The  central  figure  of  the  group  of  scouts  was  a 
tall,  broad-shouldered  man  of  fifty  years.  His  long 
black  hair  was  plentifully  sprinkled  with  silver,  and 
his  countenance  was  a  crisscross  of  fine  care-lines. 
His  dark  blue  eyes  were  alert  and  beaming  with 
native  intelligence.  But  a  puckered  red  scar  on  the 
right  cheek  drew  up  the  corner  of  his  mouth  and 
marred  the  symmetry  of  his  face.  He  wore  the 
picturesque  garb  of  a  backwoodsman ;  but  there 
was  an  indefinable  something  about  him  that  gave 
the  lie  to  his  outward  appearance. 

Ross  had  seen  the  man  almost  daily  since  leaving 
Vincennes,  but  had  not  formed  his  acquaintance. 
Now,  for  some  reason,  the  young  man's  attention 
was  closely  drawn  to  the  scar- faced  scout.  He 
heard  him  saying  in  answer  to  a  question  from  the 
governor  : 

"Yes,  I  was  clear  inside  of  the  Injin  town; 
that's  why  I  didn't  git  back  till  late  last  eve- 
nin'." 

Douglas  started.  The  man's  husky  voice  sounded 
strangly  familiar.  Governor  Harrison  was  remark- 
ing : 

"And  you  found  the  savages  friendly,  Brad- 
ford?" 

Ross  strained  his  ears  to  catch  the  answer. 

"Yes,  governor,  I  did." 


54  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  Who  went  into  the  village  with  you  ? ' ' 

"Nobody  —  I  was  all  alone.  Price  an'  Hunter, 
there  "  —  indicating  two  other  scouts  —  ' '  started 
out  with  me,  but  we  got  separated  somehow." 

' '  Did  the  Indians  avoid  you  as  you  approached 
their  town?" 

' '  No,  they  was  sociable.  I  talked  with  quite  a 
number,  an'  they  said  the'r  chiefs  wanted  peace  an' 
was  ready  to  hold  a  council  with  you." 

There  was  the  faintest  hint  of  suspicion  in  Har- 
rison's tone,  as  he  said  quickly  : 

' '  But  other  scouts  bring  me  different  reports, 
Bradford." 

"  I  can't  help  that,"  the  man  replied  doggedly. 
"  I  can  only  report  what  I've  seen  an'  heard.  Any- 
how, none  o'  the  others  had  the  grit  to  go  into  the 
town. ' ' 

This  last  he  said  with  a  toss  of  his  head  and  a 
defiant  look  at  the  other  scouts. 

' '  I  don't  think  your  comrades  lack  courage, ' ' 
the  governor  replied  coolly.  ' '  Their  reception  was 
different  from  yours.  On  the  march  to-day  I  want 
you  to  remain  within  call.  As  you  speak  several 
of  the  Indian  tongues,  I  may  want  to  use  you  as  an 
interpreter.  Your  comrades  have  already  received 
their  orders.  You  may  go." 

Was  Ross  mistaken,  or  was  there  a  look  of  ma- 
lignant triumph  on  Bradford's  scarred  face,  as  with 
the  others  he  left  the  tent  ? 

The  young  scout  now  stepped  forward  and  saluted 
the  commander. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  55 

"Ah  !  You  are  here,  Douglas,"  was  Harrison's 
pleasant  greeting.  "You  have  come  for  your 
orders?" 

"  I  have,  governor." 

"Very  well.  To-day  you  and  the  Wyandot  are 
to  remain  near  me.  I'll  use  you  as  interpret- 
ers." 

Ross  bowed  and  withdrew.  As  he  sauntered 
away  from  the  tent,  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  return 
and  inform  the  commander  of  his  experience  of  the 
night.  Yet  what  had  he  to  tell?  Perhaps  his 
imagination  was  magnifying  a  molehill  into  a 
mountain.  He  halted  —  half  turned  about  —  then 
proceeded  upon  his  way. 

Just  as  he  was  passing  a  point  midway  between 
the  governor's  quarters  and  his  own  mess-fire,  he 
discovered  Bradford  in  earnest  conversation  with  a 
burly  negro  —  an  ox-driver,  named  Ben.  The  scar- 
faced  scout  and  the  black  man  were  standing  be- 
tween two  of  the  covered  wagons.  The  darkey's 
brutal  visage  was  alight  with  pleasure,  as  he  jingled 
a  number  of  silver  coins  that  Bradford  had  just 
dropped  into  his  outstretched  palm.  Ross  heard 
the  white  man  say  : 

"  Now,  Ben,  if  you  don't  do  what  you've  prom- 
ised—  well,  you'll  hear  from  me.  Git  away  from 
here  now  —  we  mustn't  be  seen  together." 

Douglas  screened  himself  behind  a  wagon.  Now 
he  knew  why  Bradford's  husky  tones  had  sounded 
so  familiar  in  the  governor's  tent.  It  was  the 
same  voice  he  had  heard  at  the  river-side.  The 


56  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

scar-faced  scout  was  the  mysterious  personage  he 
had  met  the  night  before. 

The  negro  slyly  slipped  away  from  the  spot.  A 
half  minute  passed.  Then  Bradford  boldly  stepped 
from  his  place  of  concealment.  As  he  did  so,  he 
swept  a  hurried  glance  around  him  —  and  fastened 
his  keen  eyes  upon  Douglas. 

"What  the  devil 're  you  doin'  there?"  was  his 
expressive  question. 

His  disfigured  countenance  was  aflame  with  rage  ; 
and  drawing  his  tall  form  to  its  full  height  he  nerv- 
ously fingered  the  trigger  of  his  rifle. 

"Attending  to  my  own  business,"  Ross  answered 
with  provoking  coolness,  as  he  strode  forth  and 
faced  his  questioner. 

"  Meddlin'  with  mine,  more  likely,"  was  the 
growling  rejoinder. 

"No,"  Douglas  replied  laughingly,  "but  if  the 
negro  ever  sues  for  his  wages,  I  can  be  a  witness  to 
the  fact  that  you've  paid  him." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  blustered  Bradford,  his 
face  purple. 

' '  I  was  passing  and  saw  you  give  the  darkey  the 
money.  Are  you  the  contractor  that  employs  those 
black  fellows?" 

' '  You  know  very  well  I'm  not.  What  're  you 
insinuatin' ?  " 

"Nothing." 

' '  What  was  you  spyin'  upon  me  fer  ? 

"  I  wasn't  spying  upon  you.     Why  should  I?" 

' '  You're  a  liar  —  you  was  spyin'  upon  me  !  " 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  57 

Douglas's  steel-gray  eyes  flashed  and  his  nostrils 
dilated.  For  a  few  moments  he  glared  hard  at  the 
other  —  his  thin  lips  compressed.  Then  he  said 
with  icy  calmness : 

' '  Bradford  —  if  that  be  your  name  —  you  have 
mistaken  the  mettle  of  the  man  to  whom  you  ap- 
plied that  term.  Let  me  warn  you.  Put  a  curb 
upon  your  hasty  tongue  —  or  stand  ready  to  defend 
yourself.  Your  bluster  didn't  frighten  me  last 
night  —  nor  does  it  now." 

"What  — what  do  you  mean?"  Bradford  fal- 
tered, recoiling  a  step. 

"You  know  well  what  I  mean,"  Ross  went  on 
quietly.  "You're  not  what  you  seem.  You're 
masquerading.  For  what  purpose  I  don't  know. " — 
Bradford's  face  brightened ;  he  was  recovering  his 
equanimity. —  "You're  an  educated  man — you 
may  be  a  gentleman  and  a  patriot." 

"  I  might  return  the  compliment,"  the  older  man 
interrupted  sneeringly.  "You,  too,  are  an  edu- 
cated man.  Perhaps  you  are  masquerading  —  you 
are  so  ready  to  accuse  others.  At  any  rate,  I  know 
less  of  you  than  you  do  of  me.  I  don't  know 
your  name,  even." 

"I'm  not  certain  that  I  know  yours,"  Ross  re- 
plied meaningly. 

An  expression  of  alarm  flitted  across  Bradford's 
scarred  face,  but  he  answered  promptly  : 

"Yes,  you  know  my  name.  It's  Bradford  — 
Hiram  Bradford." 

"And  my  name's  Ross  Douglas." 


58  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Bradford  dropped  the  butt  of  his  gun  to  the 
ground  with  a  thud.  An  ashen  hue  overspread  his 
face,  and  the  red  scar  upon  his  cheek  stood  out 
with  a  vividness  that  was  startling. 

' '  Ross  Douglas,  you  say  ?  "  he  asked  with  livid, 
trembling  lips. 

The  younger  man  was  greatly  surprised  at  the 
effect  the  announcement  of  his  name  had  pro- 
duced upon  his  companion.  But  he  kept  control 
of  himself  and  simply  nodded  in  answer  to  the 
question. 

Bradford's  hand  shook  as  he  fumbled  with  the 
buttons  upon  his  rough  coat. 

"And  your  —  your  mother's  name?"  he  in- 
quired. 

' '  Why  should  I  answer  your  questions  ?  ' ' 

"  Tell  me  —  tell  me  !  "  the  other  panted. 

"Mary." 

"Your  father's?" 

"John." 

A  wonderful  change  came  over  the  scar-faced 
scout.  He  appeared  to  age  ten  years  in  as  many 
seconds.  With  the  words  —  ' '  My  God  !  My  God  ! 
And  I  would  have  killed  him  !  "  He  shouldered  his 
rifle  and  hastened  from  the  spot,  leaving  his  com- 
panion staring  after  him. 

Ross  slowly  made  his  way  toward  the  place  where 
his  messmates  were  preparing  the  morning  meal. 
His  mind  was  in  a  tumult.  What  was  the  mean- 
ing of  it  all  ?  Who  and  what  was  the  mysterious 
scout? 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  59 

' '  Why  did  the  announcement  of  my  name  so 
affect  him  —  and  why  did  he  wish  to  know  the 
name  of  my  father  and  mother  ?  "  he  asked  himself 
over  and  over. 

He  forgot  where  he  was  and  passed  the  spot  he 
sought,  without  knowing  it.  He  was  aroused  to 
a  sense  of  his  surroundings  by  hearing  Farley 
bawl: 

"What's  the  matter  o'  you,  Ross  Douglas? 
Have  you  gone  daft  an'  blind,  that  you  don't  know 
y'r  own  comrades  an'  go  right  past  'em  without 
speakin'?  Say!" 

Ross  forced  a  laugh  and  joined  the  men  at  their 
morning  meal.  But  he  ate  little  and  talked  less ; 
seeing  which,  one  of  the  militiamen  remarked  mis- 
chievously : 

"  Douglas,  you  don't  'pear  to  be  very  peart  this 
mornin'.  You  must  be  grievin'  'bout  the  gal  you 
left  behind  you.  You'd  better  pitch  into  the  grub  ; 
it'll  be  gone  purty  soon.  We  may  have  a  fracas 
with  the  redskins  'fore  night.  An'  a  man  always 
fights  best  on  a  full  stomach. ' ' 

"Ugh!"  Bright  Wing  grunted  approvingly. 
"Eat  heap  much — fight  heap  hard.  Kill  many 
Shawnees.  Ugh!" 

"That's  ph'losophy  fer  you,"  grinned  Joe. 
"The  Inj in  knows  w'en  his  bread's  buttered  —  he 
does.  Ross,  you  ain't  eatin'  enough  to  keep  a 
pigeon  alive.  You'll  be  lanker  'n  a  starved  houn' 
'fore  night  —  you  will,  by  Melissy  !  Peart  up, 
man  ;  don't  let  love-affairs  git  you  down.  I/>rdy  ! 


60  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

I've  had  hundreds  of  'em  —  an'  I'm  able  fer  three 
square  meals  a  day  yit.  What  're  you  so  down  in 
the  mouth  bout?" 

"  I'm  all  right  —  nothing  ails  me,"  Douglas  re- 
plied hastily,  arising  and  walking  away. 

Duke  followed  him.  The  intelligent  animal 
knew  that  something  had  gone  amiss  with  the  mas- 
ter he  loved.  Farley  looked  after  them  and  lugub- 
riously shaking  his  head  muttered  : 

"  Well,  if  that  don't  beat  my  reckonin',  my 
name  ain't  Joseph  Peregoy  Farley  !  " 

It  was  mid-forenoon  ere  the  army  was  again  upon 
the  march.  Very  slowly  the  great  serpent — that 
was  intended  to  choke  the  life  out  of  Tecumseh's 
infant  confederacy  —  dragged  its  cumbersome  body 
forward.  Governor  Harrison  and  his  staff  rode  in 
the  van.  Ross  Douglas  and  Bright  Wing  kept  near 
him.  When  the  army  was  four  miles  from  camp, 
savages  were  seen  skulking  from  one  sheltered 
point  to  another.  The  commander  halted  his  troops 
and  sent  forward  a  number  of  scouts  and  interpre- 
ters. The  men  returned  and  informed  him  that 
they  could  not  come  up  with  the  redmen,  who  fled 
from  them,  with  insulting  words  and  threatening 
gestures. 

Among  the  interpreters  sent  forward  were  Doug- 
las and  the  Wyandot.  On  his  return  to  Harrison's 
presence,  Ross  reported  as  follows  : 

"  Governor,  the  Indians  fled  from  us,  as  on  yes- 
terday. The}7  mean  mischief.  You  must  be  pre- 
pared for  treachery,  if  you  hold  a  council  with 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  61 

them.  You  know  now  that  Bradford  attempted  to 
deceive  you  this  morning,  when  he  told  you  the 
savages  were  anxious  for  peace." 

' '  You  heard  his  report  ? ' '  Harrison  asked  quickly. 

"I  did." 

"By  the  way" — and  the  governor  glanced 
hurriedly  around  — ' '  where  is  the  man  ?  I  ordered 
him  to  remain  within  call." 

4<  I  haven't  seen  him  since  we  left  camp,"  Ross 
answered. 

The  commander  bent  forward  in  the  saddle  and 
motioned  the  young  scout  to  come  closer.  Then 
drawing  down  his  brows  until  his  eyes  were  almost 
closed,  he  whispered : 

"Do  you  believe  Bradford  entered  the  Indian 
town  at  all?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  was  the  positive  reply. 

' '  Ah  ! ' '     The  governor  looked  relieved. 

"Yes,"  Ross  continued  in  a  low,  cautious  tone, 
' '  I  think  he  entered  the  village.  And  no  one  but 
a  friend  of  the  allied  tribes  would  dare  to  do  that  — 
in  my  opinion." 

"You  mean "  Harrison  began,  but  stopped 

suddenly,  and,  smiling,  shook  his  head. 

"I  hardly  know  what  I  mean,"  Douglas  said 
with  an  uneasy  laugh.  "However,  I'll  explain 
as  best  I  can." 

He  told  the  commander  of  Bradford's  suspicious 
words  and  actions,  concluding  : 

"It's  not  for  me  to  offer  you  advice,  governor ; 
but  if  you'll  pardon  my  boldness,  I  would  suggest 


62  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

that  you  keep  an  eye  on  Bradford  and  the  negro 
ox-driver,  Ben." 

A  worried  look  rested  upon  Harrison's  rugged 
countenance,  as  he  murmured  slowly  : 

' '  I  thank  you  for  your  information  —  for  your 
watchful  loyalty  to  your  commander  and  your 
country.  You  did  well  to  tell  me.  Appear- 
ances are  against  Bradford,  but  I  can't  believe 
him  a  traitor.  As  to  keeping  an  eye  on  the  two 
—  it's  easier  said  than  done.  I  don't  know  the 
negro.  And  itf  seems  impossible  to  get  an  eye 
on  Bradford  to-day  —  to  say  nothing  of  keeping 
it  on  him.  However,  I'll  be  watchful.  If  you 
learn  anything  more  definite,  come  to  me  at 
once." 

Then  turning  to  an  aide,  he  commanded  : 

' '  Find  Bradford,  the  scout,  and  bring  him  to 
me." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  young  officer  returned  to 
report  that  the  man  could  not  be  found.  The  gov- 
ernor looked  grave,  but  gave  the  order  for  the 
column  to  move  forward. 

By  mid-afternoon  the  advance  guard  was  within 
three  miles  of  the  Prophet's  Town.  Here  the 
ground  was  broken  by  ravines  and  covered  with 
scrub  timber.  It  became  necessary  to  exercise  the 
utmost  precaution,  to  avoid  an  ambuscade.  Scouts 
and  interpreters  were  pushed  to  the  extreme  front, 
and  every  pass  was  reconnoitered  by  mounted  rifle- 
men before  the  main  column  entered  it.  Harrison 
kept  changing  the  relative  positions  of  the  various 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  63 

corps,  as  he  advanced,  that  each  might  have  the 
ground  best  suited  to  its  maneuvers. 

Within  about  two  miles  of  the  town,  the  trail  de- 
scended a  steep  hill,  at  the  bottom  of  which  was  a 
small  creek  running  through  a  narrow  strip  of 
swampy  prairie.  Beyond  this  was  a  level  plain 
covered  with  oak  forest  without  underbrush.  Near 
the  ford,  the  woods  were  very  thick  — an  admirable 
place  for  the  Indians  to  practice  their  mode  of  war- 
fare. 

The  governor  apprehended  that  the  savages 
would  fall  upon  him  at  the  crossing — if  they 
meant  to  give  him  battle  at  all  —  and  arranged  his 
troops  accordingly.  Indians  were  seen  hovering 
around  the  front  and  flanks  of  the  army,  but  they 
made  no  move  to  attack.  The  long  column 
crossed  the  creek  unmolested  and  formed  on  the 
other  side.  The  redmen  retreated  toward  their  vil- 
lage, a  mile  and  a  half  away. 

The  afternoon  was  far  advanced,  so  the  com- 
mander decided  to  go  into  camp.  But  a  number  of 
his  officers  urged  him  to  move  quickly  forward  and 
attack  the  town  at  once.  This  he  refused  to  do, 
saying : 

' '  My  orders  are  to  avoid  a  conflict  with  the  sav- 
ages, if  possible.  However,  I'll  determine  what 
their  intentions  are  as  soon  as  I  can  —  and  act 
promptly  as  soon  as  I  have  positive  information.  I 
can't  imagine  what  has  become  of  the  friendly 
chiefs  I  sent  out  from  Fort  Harrison.  They  should 
have  met  us  miles  back.  I  hope  they  are  in  the 


64  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

village  and  will  come  out  to  us  this  evening.  We'll 
fortify  ourselves  as  we  did  last  night — and  await 
the  issue. ' ' 

"But,  governor,"  urged  Major  Daviess,  "the 
Indians  mean  to  give  us  battle  —  their  actions  indi- 
cate the  fact.  They  are  attempting  to  draw  us 
into  a  trap.  Our  men  are  in  high  spirits  and  anx- 
ious to  attack.  We  should  take  advantage  of 
their  ardor  and " 

' '  And  fall  headlong  into  the  trap  of  which  you 
speak,"  Harrison  interrupted.  "No,  it  won't  do 
to  advance  until  we  know  more  of  the  ground  be- 
tween here  and  the  town.  Already  we  are  badly 
situated  —  these  woods  and  ravines  are  favorable  to 
the  Indians.  A  small  body  of  the  enemy  could  har- 
ass us  terribly.  If  I  knew  what  lies  between  here 
and  the  village,  I  would  consent  to  a  cautious  ad- 
vance—  but  not  otherwise." 

"The  rough  ground  soon  ends,"  Major  Daviess 
answered.  ' '  The  town  lies  upon  the  low  bottoms 
of  the  Wabash  and  is  surrounded  by  level,  culti- 
vated fields." 

"How  do  you  know  this,  major?"  the  governor 
inquired. 

"Adjutant  Floyd  and  myself  advanced  to  the 
precipitous  bank  that  descends  to  the  valley,  and 
had  a  fair  view  of  the  place. ' ' 

"Then,"  said  the  commander,  reluctantly,  "  I'll 
advance  slowly  and  in  order  of  battle,  provided 
I  can  get  some  one  to  enter  the  town  ahead  of  the 
army  with  a  flag  of  truce. ' ' 


THE   SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  65 

Captain  Dubois  of  Vincennes  stepped  forward  and 
volunteered  his  services.  Harrison  turned  to  Doug- 
las, who  was  standing  near,  and  said : 

' '  Douglas,  will  you  and  the  Wyandot  accompany 
Captain  Dubois,  as  interpreters?" 

"Of  course,  governor,"  Ross  replied  cheerfully. 

"Be  off,  then — and  note  carefully  all  you  see  and 
hear.  Captain,  obtain  a  positive  answer  from  the 
Prophet,  whether  he  will  comply  with  the  terms  I 
have  so  often  proposed.  Have  a  care  that  you 
don't  get  cut  off  from  the  army." 

Taking  with  him  several  soldiers  and  the  two  in- 
terpreters, Captain  Dubois  set  out  for  the  town. 
The  army  moved  slowly  after,  in  order  of  battle. 

When  the  captain  and  his  comrades  were  within 
a  mile  of  the  town,  they  encountered  a  large  body  of 
Indians.  The  interpreters  tried  to  open  communi- 
cation with  them,  but  the  treacherous  savages  gave 
no  heed  to  repeated  hails.  All  the  while  they 
circled  around  the  little  band  of  whites,  attempting 
to  separate  them  from  their  friends  in  the  rear. 

"It's  useless  and  dangerous  to  proceed  further," 
the  captain  exclaimed  angrily.  "  Brown,"  address- 
ing a  soldier,  ' '  go  back  to  the  governor  and  inform 
him  of  our  want  of  success,  and  of  the  perilous  posi- 
tion we  occupy. ' ' 

On  receiving  the  word  from  his  peace  messenger, 
Harrison  set  his  teeth  and  said  firmly  : 

"I've  done  with  the  Prophet's  dillydallying; 
I'll  treat  him  as  an  enemy.  Recall  Captain  Du- 
bois and  his  men,  and  order  the  entire  army  to 
5 


66  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

advance  at  a  brisk  pace.  If  the  Indians  don't  come 
out  to  treat  with  me,  I'll  attack  their  town  at 
once. ' ' 

In  a  few  minutes  Dubois  and  his  comrades  had 
rejoined  the  command.  An  animated  scene  pre- 
sented itself  to  their  gaze.  Orderlies  were  gallop- 
ing hither  and  thither  ;  officers  were  giving  hurried 
commands  ;  and  regulars  and  militiamen  were  ex- 
changing oaths  and  jokes,  as  they  stood  in  line, 
awaiting  the  order  to  advance.  Every  man  thought 
an  engagement  imminent  —  and  was  depressed  or 
elated  at  the  prospect,  according  to  his  tempera- 
ment. 

"Forward!" 

The  compact  lines  moved.  But  scarcely  were 
they  in  motion  ere  they  were  met  by  a  deputation 
of  three  chiefs — including  the  Prophet's  chief  coun- 
cilor—  who  had  _come  from  the  village  to  meet  the 
commander  and  confer  with  him. 

Again  the  army  halted.  Officers  swore  and  pri- 
vates grumbled.  Why  should  they  listen  to  such 
tardy  envoys?  Why  not  make  prisoners  of  them  — 
and  proceed  to  the  attack?  But  Harrison  gave  no 
heed  to  the  stormy  protests  of  his  staff,  nor  to  the 
sullen  mutterings  of  the  rank  and  file.  He  had  re- 
solved to  give  the  chiefs  an  audience.  He  did  so  ; 
and  received  from  them  the  information  that  the 
Prophet  was  desirous  for  peace  —  that  he  wished  to 
know  why  so  large  a  force  of  armed  men  was  ap- 
proaching his  town.  Also,  they  said  the  Prophet 
had  sent  back  the  Potawatomie  and  Miami  chiefs  — 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  67 

whom  the  governor  had  dispatched  from  Fort 
Harrison  —  with  a  pacific  message,  but  the  friendly 
emissaries  had  made  their  return  journey  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Wabash,  and  for  that  reason  had 
missed  the  army. 

All  this  seemed  so  fair  and  candid  that  the  com- 
mander agreed  to  an  armistice  and  told  the  chiefs 
to  inform  the  Prophet,  that  he — Harrison — would 
hold  a  council  with  him  the  next  day. 

Once  more  the  columns  moved  forward.  The 
commander  intended  to  camp  on  the  low  ground 
near  the  village,  which  occupied  a  slight  eminence 
overlooking  the  wet  bottoms.  But  not  finding  the 
place  to  his  liking,  he  sent  Major  Waller  and  Tay- 
lor to  select  a  more  suitable  location.  The  site  the 
officers  chose  was  an  elevated  piece  of  dry  ground,  a 
short  distance  northeast  of  the  Indian  town  and 
directly  facing  it. 

Toward  this  spot  the  army  proceeded.  As  the 
lines  of  soldiers  filed  past  the  village,  numbers 
of  armed  warriors  sallied  forth,  and  appeared  ill- 
humored  and  threatening. 

When  the  troops  were  nearing  the  chosen  site  of 
the  encampment,  an  incident  occurred  that  created 
a  momentary  ripple  of  excitement.  Ben,  the  negro 
ox-driver,  suddenly  threw  down  his  whip  and, 
leaving  his  companions,  ran  off  at  full  speed  toward 
the  Indian  town.  A  number  of  braves  —  as  though 
expecting  him  —  met  him  and  conducted  him  within 
the  walls.  The  other  drivers  hooted  in  derision, 
and  flung  curses  at  the  woolly  head  disappearing 


68  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

within  the  gate  of  the  palisade  surrounding  the 
village. 

"  Dang-it-all-to-dingnation  !  "  shouted  Joe  Far- 
ley. ' '  Let  the  black  deserter  go.  I  wish  I  had 
my  ol'  rifle  out  o'  the. wagon,  fer  jest  a  minute!  I 
jest  hope  the  redskins  '11  roast  an'  eat  him.  It'll  do 
two  good  things  —  be  the  end  o'  the  nigger-traitor, 
an'  kill  the  Injins.  Dang  a  nigger,  anyhow  ! " 

Governor  Harrison's  attention  was  attracted  by 
the  hubbub  and  he  inquired  the  cause  of  it. 

' '  One  of  the  negro  ox-drivers  employed  by  the 
contractor  has  left  his  team  and  entered  the  Indian 
village,"  explained  an  aide  at  the  governor's  elbow. 

"What's  the  fellow's  name?"  Harrison  asked 
quickly. 

"I  don't  know,  governor." 

' '  Send  Ross  Douglas  to  me  at  once, ' '  was  the 
sharp  command. 

The  aide  obeyed.  And  soon  the  young  scout 
was  at  the  commander's  side. 

"What's  the  black's  name,  who  just  went  over 
to  the  Indians?"  Harrison  asked,  bending  down 
until  his  face  was  on  a  level  with  Douglas's. 

"Ben,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

"  The  same  of  whom  you  told  me?" 

' '  The  same,  governor. ' ' 

' '  Lieutenant ' '  —  addressing  an  officer  of  his 
staff —  "go  and  bring  the  negro  back.  Take  with 
you  a  squad  of  men — and  yonder  Wyandot,  as  in- 
terpreter. ' ' 

Then  again  turning  to  Ross : 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  69 

"  Have  you  seen  that  man  Bradford,  to-day?" 

"I  have  not,  governor." 

' '  Do  you  know  what  has  become  of  him  ? ' ' 

Douglas  silently  shook  his  head. 

A  fierce  scowl  darkened  the  commander's  face  as 
he  said  in  a  low  tone : 

"Nor  do  I — but  I  have  an  opinion.  He's  an 
infernal  traitor  —  and  has  deserted.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  at  this  moment  he's  in  the  Prophet's 
Town.  Dark  and  devilish  treachery  is  afoot.  But 
thanks  to  you,  my  young  friend,  I  shall  not  be 
taken  by  surprise.  When  I  again  have  that  man 
before  me,  I  shall  know  how  to  deal  with  him.  The 
black  is  a  mere  tool — an  ignorant  dupe.  Keep 
your  knowledge  to  yourself.  I'll  defeat  Brad- 
ford's purpose — whatever  it  may  be." 

The  army  reached  the  elevated  piece  of  ground 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  village,  and  went 
into  camp.  It  was  late  in  the  evening.  The  sun 
was  sinking  in  a  bank  of  dun-colored  clouds — an 
indication  of  a  dark  and  rainy  night. 

The  teamsters  disposed  of  their  wagons,  as  on  the 
previous  evening.  Wood  and  water  in  abundance 
were  near  at  hand,  for  a  clear  creek,  bordered  by 
trees  and  bushes,  flowed  at  the  rear  of  the  camp. 
Night  shut  down  and  a  drizzling  rain  began  to  fall. 
But  supper  was  underway,  and  the  appetizing  odors 
of  broiling  meat  and  boiling  coffee  cheered  the 
hearts  and  loosened  the  tongues  of  the  tired  men. 
The  merry  snap  and  crackle  of  dancing  flames 
drowned  the  doleful  voice  of  the  wind  sweeping 


70  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

across  the  open  prairie  and  soughing  among  the 
scrubby  trees. 

While  the  men  were  unloading  the  vehicles  and 
pack-horses  and  preparing  supper,  several  Indians 
from  the  town  ventured  within  the  lines.  Having 
in  mind  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  Bradford 
and  the  open  desertion  of  Ben,  Governor  Harrison 
promptly  ordered  the  red  warriors  to  betake  them- 
selves to  their  own  camp.  At  the  same  time  he  re- 
quested them  to  send  back  the  negro  —  whom  the 
staff  officer  had  failed  to  find,  and  who  was  still  in 
hiding  at  their  village.  This  they  promised  to  do. 

Ross  Douglas  listened  silently  to  the  idle  tales  of 
his  companions,  but  his  thoughts  were  far  away. 
He  was  thinking  of  Amy  I^arkin  —  as  he  had 
thought  of  her  a  hundred  times  that  day.  He 
wished  that  he  might  see  her,  if  only  for  a  few  sec- 
onds. He  felt  lonely  and  depressed.  Then  the 
disfigured  countenance  of  Hiram  Bradford  arose  be- 
fore his  mind's  eye  and  shut  out  the  fair  face  of  his 
sweetheart. 

Ross  rubbed  his  eyes  and  tried  to  rid  himself  of 
the  unwelcome  mental  vision.  But  it  would  not 
depart  at  his  bidding.  His  thoughts  refused  to  re- 
vert to  Amy,  but  persisted  in  dwelling  upon  the 
scar-faced  scout.  It  made  him  angry  ;  and  he  arose 
and  sauntered  about  in  the  darkness. 

On  returning  to  the  fire  he  heard  a  militiaman 
remarking : 

' '  Well,  I  reckon  this  ends  the  whole  matter. 
We've  come  on  a  reg'lar  fool's  errand  —  a  wild  goose 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  71 

chase.  To-morrer  the  gov'ner  '11  hold  a  powwow 
with  the  Injins — make  another  treaty  with  'em 
that  they'll  break  'fore  we're  back  to  Fort  Harrison. 
Then  what?  W'y,  we'll  march  back  to  Vincennes 
an'  be  discharged.  Cuss  it  !  We  ort  to  whip 
the  red  devils  while  we've  got  'em  cornered.  It 
puts  me  in  mind  o'  the  ol'  story  'bout  the  king  o' 
Spain  ;  how  he  marched  up  the  hill  —  an*  then 
marched  down  ag'in.  The  idee  of  a  man  totin'  a 
gun  every  day  fer  six  weeks,  to  git  a  shot  at  a  red- 
skin, an'  then  when  he's  got  the  critters  holed, 
somebody  sayin'  he  can't  do  it !  " 

"I  don't  know 'bout  y'r  not  gittin'  a  chance 
to  shoot,"  Joe  Farley  answered  reflectively. 
"Wouldn't  be  s'rprised  you'd  git  the  chance 
when  you  was  least  expectin'  it.  Injins  is  dang 
cunnin'  varmints,  sure's  you're  born.  From  all 
I've  seen  an'  heerd  o'  this  Prophet  an'  his  band, 
I'm  o'  the  'pinion  we'll  have  a  scrimmage  with  'em 
'fore  we  git  out  o'  this  clearin'.  An'  if  we  do, 
it'll  come  mighty  sudden  —  an'  in  the  night,  most 
likely  —  an'  you'll  have  a  chance  to  shoot  y'r  gun 
off  more  times  'n  you're  hankerin'  fer. 

"  The  idee  o'  you  complainin'  'bout  totin'  a  rifle  ! 
You  ort  to  be  ashamed  —  you  had  by  Jerushy  !  If 
you'd  had  to  whack  bulls  from  Fort  Harrison  — 
wear  y'r  back  out  a-lickin'  'em  an'  y'r  breath  out  a- 
cussin'  'em  —  you  might  complain.  But  I'm 
through  with  it  at  last  — •  thank  the  Lord!  I've 
resigned  my  commission.  Somebody  else  '11  drive 


72  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

'em  back  'r  they  won't  be  druv — that's  all.  The 
idee  o'  puttin'  a  free-born  American  along  with  a 
lot  o'  niggers  to  drive  oxen  !  It's  a  disgrace  — 
a  shame — a  blot  on  the  Constertution  !  L,augh, 
dang  y'r  skins!"  —  His  companions  were  haw- 
hawing  boisterously. —  "  Laugh  at  the  agony  of  an 
abused  man  !  But  you  chaps  '11  be  laughin'  out  o' 
the  other  corner  o'  y'r  mouths,  'fore  mornin'  —  'r  I 
miss  my  guess." 

The  laughter  suddenly  ceased.  And  one  of  the 
militiamen  inquired  gravely  : 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Farley?  " 

"Jest  this,"  Joe  replied  impressively.  "  I'll  bet 
any  man  a  pound  o'  powder  we  have  a  rumpus 
with  the  Injins  'fore  sun-up  to-morrer  mornin'. 
What  do  you  say,  Bright  Wing?" 

The  Wyandot  deliberately  removed  his  pipe  from 
his  lips,  with  the  stem  of  it  waved  aside  the  cloud 
of  smoke  he  blew  from  his  lungs,  and  answered  in 
guttural  but  not  unmusical  tones : 

' '  Bad  Shawnees  much  sly,  like  fox.  Make  be- 
lieve all  time  want  peace  —  all  time  want  war. 
Paleface  camp  here.  Shawnee  town  there  —  two, 
three  rifle  shots  away.  Bad  Shawnees  —  bad  Win- 
nebagoes  —  bad  Senecas — all  bad.  But  much 
brave — heap  cunning.  Big  Prophet  talk,  talk. 
Night  dark  —  palefaces  sleep  —  Indians  come  and 
kill,  Ugh!" 

The  Wyandot  resumed  his  pipe ;  the  militiamen 
sat  speechless. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  73 

1 '  There  it  is,  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  a  man's 
face  !  "  Joe  shouted,  exultingly.  "  Ross  Douglas, 
you  hain't  said  a  word.  What  do  you  think?  " 

Douglas  answered  quietly  : 

' '  I  think  the  savages  mean  to  try  to  surprise 
and  massacre  us.  But  whether  they'll  make  the 
attempt  to-night,  I  don't  know — I  have  no  idea." 

"Hark!"  cried  a  militiaman,  nervously  spring- 
ing to  his  feet.  "What's  that  hullabaloo  'bout?" 

His  companions  hastily  arose  and  stood  listen- 
ing intently.  A  chorus  of  shouts,  mingled  with 
curses,  came  from  the  direction  of  the  governor's 
tent. 

"I'll  soon  see  what's  up,"  muttered  Farley, 
bounding  away  toward  the  spot  whence  the  sounds 
came. 

The  others  seated  themselves  and  anxiously 
awaited  his  return.  The  uproar  suddenly  ceased. 
A  few  minutes  later,  Joe  again  stood  within  the 
circle  of  light.  A  broad  grin  irradiated  his  homely 
features. 

' '  What  was  it  ?  "  bawled  half  a  dozen  voices  at 
once. 

"W'y,  ding-it-all-to-dangnation  !  "  Farley  ex- 
claimed excitedly.  "The  nigger's  come  back. 
An'  Cap'n  Wilson's  captured  him  an'  got  him  in 
charge. ' ' 

' '  Where  did  he  capture  him  ? ' '  Douglas  asked 
quickly. 

"Right  behind  the  gov'nor's  tent — the  dang 
sneak  was  a-hidin'  in  the  shadder  of  it." 


74  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

"And  he  returned  to  murder  the  commander," 
Ross  muttered  under  his  breath.  "So  that,  at 
least,  was  a  part  of  Bradford's  plan;  and  it  has 
miscarried.  Who  is  that'  man  —  an  agent  of  the 
British?  He's  foiled  for  the  present,  at  any  rate. 
But  what  does  he  know  of  me?  Why  was  he  so 
agitated  when  he  learned  my  name?  And  no 
doubt  he's  at  the  Prophet's  Town,  impatiently 
awaiting  the  news  that  the  governor  is  assassinated. 
Thank  God,  he's  doomed  to  disappointment !  " 

Gradually  the  noises  of  the  camp  died  out. 
Wrapped  in  their  blankets  and  with  their  guns  at 
their  sides,  the  soldiers  stretched  themselves  around 
the  fires  and  fell  asleep.  The  wind  moaned  dis- 
mally ;  the  flames  cast  grotesque  shadows  over  the 
sleeping  forms.  In  the  outer  darkness  the  sentries 
paced  their  lonely  beats.  The  murmur  of  shouting 
savages  and  barking  dogs  came  in  on  the  wings  of 
the  fitful  gale,  telling  that  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Prophet's  Town  were  still  astir.  Then  the  fickle 
wind  veered  to  another  point  of  the  compass  —  and 
all  was  still.  Suddenly  the  silence  was  broken  by 
the  voice  of  a  lusty  singer.  The  sleepers  stirred 
uneasily  as  they  heard  in  their  dreams : 

"The  Injins  hankers  fer  my  scalp, 

To  sell  to  the  highest  bidder; 
An'  when  I'm  dead  an'  in  my  grave, 
My  wife  '11  be  a  widder!" 

"Drat  the  critter,  anyhow!"  gfumbled  Farley, 
flopping  over  upon  his  stomach  and  raising  his 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  75 

head.  "He's  at  it  ag'in.  Seems  he  can't  sleep, 
n'r  let  anybody  else.  I  wish  to  gosh  he'd  stayed 
in  ol'  Kaintuck  with  his  wife  an'  babies  —  I  do,  by 
Tabithy!" 

Then  in  a  startled  voice  : 

"Say,  Ross,  wake  up!  Y'r  Injin's  took  his 
departure.  Ther'  ain't  hide  n'r  hair  of  him  to  be 
seen." 

Douglas  rubbed  his  eyes  and  sat  erect.  Bright 
Wing  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HEN  did  you  discover  his  absence,  Joe?'' 
was  Douglas's  first  question. 

"Jest  this  minute,"  Farley  replied 
promptly.  ' '  That  dang  Kaintuckian  waked  me 
up  with  his  caterwaulin' — an'  I  found  the  Injin 
gone.  Then  I  called  you.  Listen  to  that  critter 
squallin'  —  an'  he  calls  it  singin'  !  " 

1 '  What  can  have  become  of  the  Wyandot  ? ' ' 
Ross  asked,  unheeding  Joe's  complaining  tone — • 
as  he  arose  and  peered  into  the  shadows. 

"  Don't  know,"  Joe  answered,  with  an  expressive 
shake  of  the  head.  "But  I  know  what  will  be- 
come o'  him,  if  he  goes  nosin'  'round  the  camp." 

"What?" 

"Some  o'  the  sentries  '11  take  him  fer  a  prowlin' 
redskin  from  the  town  over  yander,  an'  put  an 
ounce  o'  lead  into  him — that's  what." 

"That's  'bout  so,"  growled  one  of  the  militia- 
men from  under  his  blanket. 

"You  are  right,"  Ross  admitted.  "  I'll  make  a 
circuit  of  the  camp  and  try  to  find  him." 

"An'  while  you're  gone,  kill  that  Kaintuckian 
'r  have  the  officer  o'  the  guard  buck  an'  gag  him," 
Farley  snarled  as  he  again  threw  himself  upon  the 
ground. 
(76) 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  77 

Douglas  failed  to  find  his  red  comrade  and  re- 
turned to  his  place  by  the  fire. 

"See  anything  o'  the  Injin?"  Joe  sleepily  in- 
quired. 

"  No,"  was  the  monosyllabic  reply. 

' '  Well  turn  in  an"  go  to  sleep.  He's  able  to  take 
keer  of  hisself.  Injins  is  Injins  —  the  best  you  can 
make  of  'em.  They're  jest  like  other  wild  var- 
mints—  always  prowlin'  'round  o'  nights.  He'll 
turn  up  in  the  mornin'.  Go  to  sleep." 

Douglas  was  worn  out  with  the  day's  toil  and 
excitement ;  so,  rolling  himself  in  his  blanket,  he  lay 
down.  While  he  slumbers,  let  us  follow  Bright 
Wing. 

The  Wyandot  had  left  the  others  sleeping,  and 
had  stolen  to  the  outskirts  of  the  camp.  While 
Ross  was  searching  for  him,  he  was  in  hiding  be- 
hind one  of  the  wagons,  awaiting  a  chance  to  slip 
through  the  line  of  sentries.  At  last  his  patience 
was  rewarded;  and  with  consummate  skill  and 
cunning,  he  wormed  through  the  tall  grass  and 
bushes  growing  along  the  slope  upon  which  the 
camp  was  situated.  When  he  found  himself  safely 
beyond  the  lines,  he  nimbly  arose  to  his  feet  and 
sped  across  the  strip  of  wet  prairie  lying  between 
the  camp  and  the  town  of  the  Prophet. 

On  nearing  the  latter  place,  he  halted  and  care- 
fully reconnoitered.  Apparently  convinced  the 
way  was  clear,  he  boldly  ascended  the  grade  lead- 
ing to  the  village,  and  found  himself  under  the 
walls  of  the  fortified  town. 


78  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

The  Prophet's  Town  was  a  sacred  place  —  the 
Mecca  of  his  fanatical  followers.  Here  he  mut- 
tered incantations  and  performed  miracles  ;  here  he 
blessed  the  faithful  and  condemned  to  perdition  all 
unbelievers.  Many  pilgrims  came  and  went  each 
day.  And  on  this  night  the  place  was  full  of  fierce 
warriors — mad  with  fanaticism  and  thirsting  for 
blood. 

The  town  itself  consisted  of  a  large  number  of 
flimsily  constructed  log-cabins  and  lodges  of  poles 
and  skins.  These  rude  habitations  were  scattered 
irregularly  over  several  acres  of  ground.  The 
council  lodge — or  cabin  —  was  centrally  located. 
Surrounding  the  whole  was  a  palisade  of  poles  and 
logs.  Two  or  three  narrow  openings  in  the  wall 
served  as  gateways.  To-night  they  were  closely 
guarded  ;  for  the  enemy  lay  without  —  and  within 
important  business  was  engaging  the  attention  of 
chiefs  and  braves. 

Bright  Wing  crouched  in  the  shadow  of  the 
palisade  and  listened  intently.  The  din  of  many 
voices  came  to  his  ears.  Above  the  sullen,  monoto- 
nous roar,  occasionally  arose  the  exultant  whoop  of 
some  excited  brave.  Through  a  crack  between 
two  of  the  upright  timbers,  the  Wyandot  caught 
a  glimpse  of  flaring  torches  and  flaming  bonfires. 
For  a  brief  moment  he  glued  his  eyes  to  the  open- 
ing. Then  he  arose  and  ran  along  the  outer  side  of 
the  wall,  until  he  came  to  a  point  where  a  log-cabin 
occupied  an  angle  —  filling  the  space  between  two 
wings  of  the  palisade.  Near  it  was  a  guarded 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  79 

gateway.  L,ike  a  squirrel  the  Indian  clambered  up 
the  projecting  ends  of  the  logs  of  the  hut — and 
boldly  dropped  to  the  ground  within  the  inclosure. 

' '  Ugh  ! ' '  was  the  startled  grunt  of  one  of  the 
guards  at  the  gateway. 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  his  companion  in  the 
Shawnee  tongue. 

"A  noise  at  the  cabin,"  was  the  answer. 

' '  It  was  the  wind  rattling  the  bark  upon  the 
roof." 

"  It  may  have  been  a  paleface." 

"  No  !  "  — Contemptuously. — "The  palefaces  are 
cowards.  They  fear  the  wonderful  power  of  Tensk- 
watawa  —  The  Open  Door." 

The  two  guards  lapsed  into  silence.  Bright 
Wing  cautiously  arose  to  his  feet  .and,  dodging 
from  cabin  to  cabin,  made  his  way  toward  the 
center  of  the  village.  At  last  he  reached  a  spot 
where  he  could  look  out  upon  the  square  in  which 
stood  the  council  lodge — the  Prophet's  temple. 

The  space  was  ablaze  with  fires  and  torches.  A 
dense  mass  of  savages,  talking,  whooping,  and 
gesticulating,  surged  around  the  entrance  to  the 
lodge.  Many  different  tribes  were  represented. 
The  young  Wyandot  saw  several  members  of  his 
own  tribe  among  the  half-nude  fanatics.  Think- 
ing, therefore,  that  his  presence  would  not  arouse 
suspicion,  he  resolved  to  mingle  with  the  excited 
braves  and  learn  what  plans  were  afoot. 

Slowly  he  edged  forward  until  he  reached  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd.  Apparently  no  one  took 


8o  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

notice  of  him  —  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  door  of 
the  council  lodge.  He  elbowed  his  way  into  the 
surging  mass  and  stood  still  —  his  finger  upon  the 
trigger  of  his  rifle. 

The  braves  were  in  war-paint  and  feathers.  All 
were  fully  armed.  Shoulder  to  shoulder,  stood 
Winnebago  and  Wyandot;  cheek  by  jowl,  were 
Shawnees  and  Pottawatomies. 

Suddenly  a  mighty  shout  went  up  from  the 
savage  horde.  It  was  prolonged  for  several  min- 
utes. A  thousand  bronzed  warriors  bellowed  them- 
selves hoarse.  They  danced,  and  swayed,  and 
gyrated.  Squaws  and  children  added  their  pier- 
cing treble  to  the  thunderous  bass  of  the  men. 
"  Tenskwatawa  !  "  was  the  cry.  Then,  as  suddenly 
as  it  had  arisen,  the  tumult  subsided.  Naught  but 
the  heavy  breathing  of  the  multitude  could  be 
heard. 

Bright  Wing  riveted  his  gaze  upon  the  front  of 
the  council  lodge.  A  procession  was  issuing  from 
the  doorway.  First  came  a  number  of  torchbearers, 
walking  two  abreast.  They  stepped  apart  on  reach- 
ing the  open  air,  to  form  an  avenue  through  which 
passed  a  dozen  forms  fantastically  clad  and  painted, 
making  a  hideous  din  by  beating  shallow  drums 
and  rattling  strings  of  dried  deer-hoofs.  These 
were  followed  by  a  group  of  dignified  chiefs  in 
full  war-dress.  Last  of  all  appeared  a  solitary  fig- 
ure, awful  in  its  grotesqueness  —  the  horrible  vision 
of  a  nightmare. 

"  Tenskwatawa  !"  was  the  whisper   that  arose. 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  81 

It  began  in  the  front  rank  of  the  crowd  and  ran 
toward  the  rear,  until  every  pair  of  lips  in  the  sea 
of  faces  was  moving.  ' '  Tenskwatawa !  The 
Open  Door  !  "  Then  a  deathlike  hush  fell  upon 
them. 

The  grotesque  figure  was  that  of  the  Prophet. 
He  ascended  a  small  platform  to  the  right  of  the 
door  of  the  council  lodge,  and  stood  looking  out 
over  the  heads  of  torchbearers,  musicians,  and 
chiefs.  The  glare  of  blazing  torches  fell  upon  him. 
A  buffalo-robe  enveloped  his  body.  The  horns  sur- 
mounted his  head  and  gave  him  a  demoniac  aspect. 
The  tail  of  the  animal,  whose  skin  he  had  as- 
sumed, trailed  upon  the  ground  behind  him.  His 
hideous,  repellent  face  —  in  which  shrewdness,  ava- 
rice, and  cruelty  were  reflected  —  was  striped  and 
smeared  with  black  and  yellow  paints.  From  nose 
and  ears  depended  large  silver  crescents;  and 
around  his  neck  was  a  string  of  bears' -claws.  His 
one  eye  twinkled  balefully. 

For  a  full  minute  he  stood  with  folded  arms. 
Then  he  slowly  raised  his  right  hand  toward  the 
black  heavens.  As  he  did  so,  a  ring  upon  his  index 
finger  caught  the  rays  of  the  red  and  smoking 
torches  and  emitted  a  fitful  stream  of  sparkles. 

"The  Sign  of  the  Prophet!  The  Sign  of  the 
Prophet !  ' '  wailed  and  sobbed  the  throng  of  sav- 
ages. 

Many  of  them  prostrated  themselves  to  the 
earth,  some  in  convulsions  —  frothing  at  the  mouth 
and  gibbering  incoherently  ;  others  in  a  state  of 
6 


82  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

cataleptic  rigidity — their  eyes  wide  open  and  star- 
ing, their  limbs  immovably  fixed. 

The  Prophet's  lips  moved ;  but  no  words  came 
forth.  He  was  praying.  At  last  he  dropped  his 
arm  to  a  horizontal  position,  and,  slowly  and  im- 
pressively moving  his  hand  from  side  to  side,  began 
in  low-pitched,  resonant  tones  : 

"  Arise,  children.  I  come  to  you  with  a  message 
from  the  Great  Spirit." 

The  groveling  braves  got  upon  their  feet,  and, 
leaning  forward,  listened  eagerly  to  every  word  that 
fell  from  his  lips. 

He  continued : 

"  The  forests  and  streams  belong  to  the  redmen. 
The  Great  Spirit  gave  them  to  his  wild  children. 
The  palefaces  have  stolen  our  lands.  The  Great 
Spirit  is  displeased  with  his  children  that  they  have 
tamely  submitted.  All  this  you  have  heard  before. 
The  time  has  come  for  action.  You  must  strike  a 
blow  to  recover  your  own.  The  palefaces  are  with- 
out the  gates.  They  come  to  take  from  us  the  little 
we  have  left.  This  is  holy  ground  —  the  feet  of 
our  enemies  shall  not  defile  it.  They  come  at  a 
time  when  your  great  leader  —  the  noble  Tecumseh 
— is  absent.  They  think  to  force  you  to  submit  to 
their  propositions.  They  demand  a  council.  We 
have  promised  to  meet  them.  But  we  shall  meet 
them  to-night  —  not  to-morrow.  We  shall  take  with 
us  the  tomahawk  —  not  the  peace-pipe.  Our  guns 
shall  speak  for  us.  My  children,  the  Great  Spirit 
sends  you  this  message." 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  83 

Tenskwatawa  paused  to  note  the  effect  of  'his 
words.  The  warriors  silently  gripped  their  weapons 
and,  with  blazing  eyes,  waited  for  him  to  proceed. 
Pitching  his  voice  in  a  higher  key,  he  resumed  : 

"The  black  man  has  returned  to  the  palefaces. 
I  have  put  a  spell  upon  him  —  he  will  perform  his 
mission.  Kre  the  turn  of  the  night  the  great  pale- 
face chief  will  be  in  the  spirit  land,  with  his 
fathers.  Then  will  fear  seize  upon  his  warriors. 
In  the  early  morning,  my  children,  you  will  fall 
upon  them  and  destroy  them.  The  Great  Spirit 
has  promised  me  the  victory.  Darkness  will  shelter 
the  redmen  —  while  a  great  light  will  reveal  the 
palefaces.  I  have  brewed  a  drink  of  which  each  of 
you  shall  sip —  and  shall  not  taste  death.  Bullets 
shall  pass  him  by  —  and  long  knives  shall  refuse  to 
harm  him.  The  Great  Spirit  has  promised  —  and  I 
have  told  you.  I  have  put  a  spell  upon  the  pale- 
faces. Already  one-half  of  them  are  dead  or  crazy. 
The  victory  shall  be  yours  —  the  Great  Spirit  has 
promised. ' ' 

Again  he  paused,  his  one  eye  fixed  upon  the  sea 
of  dusky  faces  before  him.  The  braves  stood 
spellbound  —  awed  to  silence  by  his  words  and 
manner.  Raising  his  voice  to  the  highest  pitch,  he 
cried  : 

"If  there  be  a  coward  among  you,  let  him  eat 
dirt  and  stay  with  the  squaws.  I  would  lead  you 
myself,  but  the  Great  Spirit  forbids.  But  my 
power  shall  be  with  you  —  my  sign  shall  accompany 
you.  See!" 


84  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Again  he  raised  his  right  hand  ;  and  again  the 
ring  upon  his  finger  scintillated  dazzlingly. 

"The  Sign  of  the  Prophet!  The  Sign  of  the 
Prophet ! ' '  was  the  awe-stricken  whisper  of  the  mul- 
titude. 

' '  Listen  ! "  shouted  Tenskwatawa.  ' '  Three  brave 
chiefs  shall  lead  you  —  Winnemac,  White  Loon,  and 
Stone-Eater.  I  have  said  that  my  sign  shall  go  with 
you.  So  it  shall.  See  !  I  place  it  upon  the  noble 
Winnemac's  finger.  It  shall  bring  you  victory  over 
our  enemies.  My  children,  I  have  spoken." 

Wrapping  the  buffalo-skin  closely  around  him,  he 
descended  the  platform  and  re-entered  the  council 
lodge.  The  chiefs,  musicians,  and  torchbearers  fol- 
lowed him,  in  order.  Then  the  pent  enthusiasm  of 
the  warriors  broke  loose.  They  whooped,  howled, 
and  danced  ;  they  embraced  each  other  and  rolled 
over  and  over  upon  the  ground.  In  a  fanatical 
frenzy,  they  caught  up  burning  firebrands  and  ran 
hither  and  thither.  For  several  minutes  pandemo- 
nium reigned. 

Bright  Wing  had  learned  all  he  desired.  He 
turned  to  slip  away  unmolested,  and  had  reached  the 
edge  of  the  crowd  and  was  rapidly  making  his  way 
toward  the  palisade,  when  he  came  face  to  face  with 
a  white  man.  The  Wyandot  uttered  a  grunt  of 
surprise,  as  he  recognized  the  form  and  features 
of  Hiram  Bradford. 

' '  Hello  ! ' '  cried  the  latter.  ' '  Where  are  you  run- 
ning so  fast,  my  red  friend  —  and  what  are  you  do- 
ing here  ? ' ' 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  85 

The  young  Indian  haughtily  drew  himself  erect 
and  retorted : 

"Bright  Wing  among  his  people.  What  paleface 
scout  do  here." 

' '  Good  —  very  good  ! ' '  Bradford  chuckled  hus- 
kily. "Well,  I'll  answer  your  question,  Wyandot, 
and  then  you  shall  answer  mine.  I'm  here  as  an 
agent  of  the  British,  and  I'm  doing  what  I  can  to 
help  your  people  to  recover  what  belongs  to  them. 
Now,  what  are  you  doing  here  ? ' ' 

"Bright  Wing  come  help,  too,"  was  the  quick 
reply. 

' '  Y-e-s, "  the  scar- faced  scout  answered  doubtingly, 
"but  you've  been  among  the  palefaces — I  saw  you 
there,  you  know.  You've  been  scouting  for  them." 

' '  Ugh  ! ' '  Bright  Wing  grunted .  "You  scout  for 
palefaces,  too.  Me  see  you  there.  " 

Bradford  was  disconcerted  by  the  Wyandot' s 
shrewd  replies.  Now  he  cried  irritably  : 

"  I^et's  understand  each  other,  my  red  friend.  I 
was  among  the  Americans  as  a  spy.  What  were 
you  doing  in  their  service  ? ' ' 

"Bright  Wing  him  spy,  too,"  was  the  unmoved 
rejoinder. 

' '  And  you  have  left  them  and  come  to  fight  with 
your  people  ? ' ' 

' '  Ugh  !  me  fight  with  friends.  Paleface  fight 
with  redmen  ?  " 

"  No, "  Bradford  reluctantly  admitted  ;  "  I  shan'  t 
fight  with  them.  I  can  better  help  them  in  an- 
other way.  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 


86  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"Bright  Wing  him  go  find  friends.  Good- 
night." 

The  Wyandot  stalked  away,  leaving  Bradford 
staring  after  him. 

"  It  may  be  all  right,"  muttered  the  latter,  "but 
I  greatly  doubt  it.  I  suspect  that  cunning  fellow's 
here  as  a  spy.  But  how  did  he  pass  the  guards  at 
the  gate?  Ah  !  here  comes  Gray  Wolf  !  " 

Gray  Wolf  was  a  gigantic,  vicious-looking  Shaw- 
nee.  Evidently  he  and  Bradford  were  old  acquaint- 
ances. They  held  a  hurried  conversation.  Then 
Gray  Wolf  hastened  away  in  pursuit  of  Bright 
Wing.  He  came  upon  the  Wyandot  in  an  obscure 
corner  of  the  inclosure,  just  as  the  latter  was  pre- 
paring to  scale  the  palisade. 

"Why  is  my  brother  here  by  himself?  "the 
Shawnee  suavely  asked  in  his  own  tongue. 

"Perhaps  it  pleases  him  to  be  alone,"  Bright 
Wing  answered  haughtily,  in  the  same  language. 

"And  perhaps  he  means  to  leave  the  village?" 

' '  And  if  he  does,  has  he  not  the  same  right  to  go 
and  come  as  the  birds  of  the  air  or  the  beasts  of  the 
forest  ?  " 

' '  But  Tenskwatawa  has  given  orders  that  none 
shall  leave  the  village  until  the  appointed  time.  I 
know  my  brother.  He  is  Bright  Wing,  a  Wyan- 
dot." 

' '  And  7  know  my  brother.  He  is  Gray  Wolf,  a 
Shawnee." 

The  two  warriors  stood  glaring  at  each  other 
in  the  darkness.  Gray  Wolf  was  the  first  to 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  87 

speak  again.  He  said  in  a  low,  intense  tone  of 
voice : 

' '  My  brother  is  the  friend  of  the  palefaces  —  the 
enemy  of  his  race." 

Bright  Wing  replied  proudly  : 

' '  The  words  that  fall  from  my  brother's  lips  are 
not  the  words  of  truth.  Bright  Wing  is  the  true 
friend  of  his  race." 

"  Does  he  stand  ready  to  prove  it?  "  Gray  Wolf 
asked  sneeringly. 

"  He  does,"  was  the  frigid  reply. 

"  Has  he  the  Sign  of  the  Prophet?  " 

"He  has." 

' '  Bright  Wing  has  a  forked  tongue  —  it  refuses 
to  speak  the  truth,"  Gray  Wolf  cried  triumphantly. 
' '  Many  have  seen  the  Sign  of  the  Prophet,  and  felt 
its  power  —  but  Tenskwatawa  alone  has  it." 

"  Gray  Wolf  knows  that  he  lies  !  "  Bright  Wing 
answered  fiercely.  ' '  For  at  this  moment  Winne- 
mac  bears  the  Sign  of  the  Prophet." 

The  Shawnee  was  taken  aback.  The  answer  was 
unexpected.  He  growled  savagely  : 

' '  Bright  Wing  is  the  dog  of  the  palefaces.  What 
does  he  here?" 

The  Wyandot  leaned  forward  and  hissed  in  the 
other's  ear : 

' '  He  comes  to  tear  the  throat  of  the  wolf  that 
helped  to  murder  the  great  and  kind  chief,  lyeather- 
lips.  Die,  whelp  of  a  Shawnee  ! " 

Gray  Wolf  tried  to  spring  out  of  reach  of  his 
Nemesis,  shaping  his  lips  for  a  war-whoop,  as  he  did 


88  THE  SIGN  OF   THE   PROPHET 

so.  But  the  Wyandot's  tomahawk  descended  and 
buried  itself  in  the  Shawnee's  brain.  The  whoop 
ended  as  a  death-rattle  in  his  throat.  His  great 
bulk  sank  to  earth,  an  inert  mass.  One  bubbling 
expiration  of  the  breath  —  and  Gray  Wolf  was  a 
corpse. 

Bright  Wing  wiped  the  blood  from  his  tomahawk 
and  replaced  it  in  his  belt.  Then  he  whipped  out 
his  scalping-knife,  muttering  in  his  own  tongue  : 

"  He  helped  to  murder  my  father.  His  footprints 
will  blight  the  flowers  and  grass  no  more.  The 
Great  Spirit  willed  that  Gray  Wolf  should  die  by 
the  hand  of  Bright  Wing " 

He  closed  the  sentence  abruptly,  and  jerking  off 
the  reeking  scalp  of  the  Shawnee,  caught  up  his 
rifle  and  darted  away  in  the  darkness.  The  sound 
of  approaching  footsteps  had  come  to  his  quick 
ears. 

A  minute  later  a  prolonged  war-whoop  reverber- 
ated from  one  end  of  the  village  to  the  other.  In 
answer  to  it  came  a  hundred  others.  All  was  ex- 
citement and  confusion.  Torches  bobbed  and 
flared  here  and  there.  An  enemy  was  in  the 
camp. 

Bright  Wing  flattened  his  form  against  the  slop- 
ing roof  of  a  cabin  —  where  he  had  taken  refuge — 
and  breathlessly  awaited  the  outcome.  The  hut 
upon  which  he  was  perched  stood  near  the  edge  of 
the  inclosure,  and  the  roof  sloped  toward  the  palis- 
ade. He  was  far  from  the  blazing  bonfires,  and 
darkness  sheltered  him.  His  enemies  searched 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  89 

high  and  low,  but  failed  to  discover  him.  Three  or 
four  times  groups  of  them  stood  under  the  low 
eaves  and  jabbered  in  guttural  accents.  Gradually 
the  excitement  subsided  and  darkness  and  silence 
reigned. 

Hours  slipped  by,  but  Bright  Wing  did  not  dare 
to  leave  his  hiding-place.  He  realized  fully  the 
dangers  that  beset  him,  and  he  shuddered,  thinking 
of  his  white  friends.  He  must  give  them  warning. 
But  how  ?  He  thought  of  many  reckless  plans,  but 
abandoned  each  in  turn. 

Midnight  passed — and  morning  was  drawing 
nigh.  Again  the  town  was  astir.  The  Wyandot 
heard  the  buzz  of  myriad  voices,  and  knew  what  it 
meant.  The  allied  tribes  were  preparing  for  the 
attack.  He  stretched  his  cramped  limbs  and  cau- 
tiously descended  to  the  ground.  If  he  was  to  give 
warning,  he  must  be  off  at  once.  He  would  make 
an  attempt  —  no  matter  how  reckless.  For  several 
minutes  he  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  low  building, 
vainly  striving  to  map  out  a  plan  of  procedure. 
The  steady  tramp  of  hundreds  of  moccasined  feet 
greeted  his  ears.  The  Prophet's  braves  were 
marching  forth  to  battle. 

Bright  Wing  ran  to  the  palisade  and  sought  to 
scale  it.  Failing  at  one  point  he  tried  another. 
Frantically  he  dug  his  ringers  and  toes  into  the 
crevices  between  the  upright  timbers.  His  efforts 
were  fruitless.  He  did  not  dare  to  approach  the 
spot  where  he  had  entered  the  inclosure  ;  the  guards 
near  at  hand  were  alert.  The  tramp-tramp  of  the 


90  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

marching  warriors  drew  nearer.  They  were  ap- 
proaching the  northeastern  gate.  The  Wyandot 
made  a  final  effort  to  climb  the  wall  —  and  fell  back. 
His  heart  sickened.  Was  he  doomed  to  failure  ? 
The  thought  made  him  desperate.  Recklessly  he 
strode  to  the  northeastern  gateway  and  assayed  to 
pass  out.  The  click  of  a  gun-lock  brought  him  to  a 
standstill.  A  guard  stepped  from  the  shadow  and 
said  : 

"  Has  my  brother  the  Sign  of  the  Prophet?  " 

"He  has  seen  it,"  Bright  Wing  mumbled,  "  but 
Tenskwatawa  alone  has  it. ' ' 

' '  Why  does  my  brother  seek  to  go  out  alone  ? ' ' 

"At  the  order  of  the  great  Winnemac  he  goes  to 
scout,"  was  the  quick-witted  reply. 

"Ugh!"  ejaculated  the  sentry,  taking  a  step 
backward. 

The  nimble-footed  Wyandot  darted  through  the 
gateway  and  disappeared — just  as  the  head  of  the 
column  of  braves  came  in  sight. 

Down  the  incline,  across  the  swampy  prairie,  and 
up  the  slope  leading  to  the  camp  of  the  whites, 
Bright  Wing  sped  like  the  wind  —  never  pausing 
until  he  drew  near  the  line  of  sentries.  The  sky 
was  thickly  clouded ;  a  gentle  drizzle  was  falling. 
Dropping  upon  the  ground,  he  watched  and  waited 
for  a  chance  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  the  pickets. 
A  white  man  would  have  given  the  alarm,  by  step- 
ping forward  and  permitting  himself  to  be  chal- 
lenged ;  but  the  proud  Wyandot  scorned  to  do 
anything  of  the  kind.  Minutes  passed.  Suddenly, 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  91 

a  light  footfall  attracted  his  attention  ;  and  the  next 
moment  Duke's  cold  muzzle  touched  his  hand. 

"  Go  'way  —  go  to  master  !  "  Bright  Wing  com- 
manded in  a  stern  whisper. 

In  answer  the  dog  threw  up  his  nose  and  sniffed 
the  damp  air.  Then  with  a  low  growl,  he  bounded 
away  toward  camp. 

"  Duke  him  smell  redmen,"  the  Wyandot  mut- 
tered to  himself.  ' '  Me  must  go  in  quick  —  right 
away." 

Little  by  little  he  wriggled  forward  —  the  sentry 
pacing  his  beat  within  a  few  feet  of  him.  The  next 
instant  the  intrepid  young  brave  was  upon  his  feet. 
Like  a  scudding  cloud  he  glided  to  the  barricade  of 
wagons,  and  disappeared  among  them.  A  moment 
later  he  bent  over  the  sleeping  form  of  Ross  Doug- 
las and,  shaking  him  roughly,  cried: 

"Wake,  Fleet  Foot !  "—The  Indian  name  of  his 
white  friend. — "Up!  Up!  Winnemac  and  heap 
many  braves  come  —  come  soon." 

Douglas  threw  off  his  blanket,  and,  leaping  to  his 
feet,  cried  excitedly : 

"Did  you  say  the  Indians  are  coming,  Bright 
Wing?" 

' '  Ugh ! ' '  grunted  the  imperturbable  Wyandot. 
' '  Come  quick  soon  —  sight  many. ' ' 

"  You  mean  they're  almost  upon  us?  " 

"Ugh!" 

"How  did  you  learn  the  fact?" 

"Bright  Wing  go  to  Prophet's  Town —  learn  big 
heap." 


92  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Duke  now  dashed  into  the  circle  of  light  and  out 
again,  barking  furiously.  His  hoarse  voice  wak- 
ened Farley  and  his  messmates.  They  stumbled  to 
their  feet,  sleepily  rubbing  their  eyes. 

"What  in  dingnation's  all  this  hullabaloo  'bout, 
anyhow?"  Joe  demanded  irritably. 

"  The  Indians  are  upon  us  !  "  cried  Ross.  "Se- 
cure your  arms — and  make  yourselves  ready  for 
battle.  I'm  off  to  warn  the  officers." 

And  striking  the  breech  of  his  rifle,  to  prime  it, 
Douglas  bounded  away  toward  the  governor's  tent. 

"Jest  as  I  pr' dieted,"  Farley  growled.  "  Dang- 
it-all-to-dingnation  !  Hang-it-up-an'-take-it-down- 
an'-cook-it !  Did  anybody  ever  hear  o'  such  dang 
fools  as  Injins  is?  Git  up  in  the  night  to  fight  ! 
Dodrot  that  Kaintuckian  !  He's  the  cause  o'  all 
this  —  he  is,  by  the  Queen  o'  Sheby  !  He  might 
'ave  knowed  his  caterwaulin'  'Id  bring  on  a  rumpus 
—  even  Injins  can't  stand  no  such  unearthly  noise 
as  he  makes.  Great  snakes  —  it's  darker  'n  a 
squaw's  pocket  1 " 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  —  the 
darkest  hour  in  the  twenty-four.  The  moon  had 
risen,  but  was  veiled  by  heavy  clouds.  The  rain 
still  fell.  The  smoldering  camp-fires  shed  a  faint, 
uncertain  light  over  the  scene.  Governor  Harrison 
had  already  arisen  and  was  sitting  by  the  fire  in 
front  of  his  tent.  He  had  just  pulled  on  his  boots 
and  was  conversing  with  the  members  of  his  staff, 
who  sprawled  upon  blankets,  in  a  circle  around  the 
red  embers.  They  were  waiting  for  the  signal  to 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  93 

turn  out.  In  a  few  minutes  the  drum  would  have 
beaten  reveille.  Of  a  sudden  the  report  of  a  rifle, 
followed  by  an  Indian  yell,  broke  the  stillness  of 
the  camp,  and  brought  the  officers  to  their  feet. 

' '  What's  the  meaning  of  that ? ' '  Harrison  asked 
sharply. 

At  that  moment  Ross  Douglas  leaped  into  the 
circle  of  light,  shouting  : 

"An  attack!  An  attack,  governor  !  The  savages 
are  upon  us !  A  sentry  has  just  fired  upon  one 
and " 

His  words  were  drowned  in  a  torrent  of  Indian 
war-whoops.  Then  followed  the  crash  and  roar  of 
discharging  firearms.  A  streak  of  flame  ran  along 
the  western  picket  line.  The  sentries  came  flying 
into  camp.  The  Indians  were  making  an  onslaught 
on  the  left  wing. 

In  a  moment  all  was  bustle  and  excitement.  The 
suddenness  of  the  attack  almost  caused  a  panic. 
But  the  commander  was  the  firm  rock  upon  which 
the  wave  of  consternation  broke.  Hastily  mount- 
ing his  horse,  he  dashed  toward  the  point  of  conflict, 
shouting  his  orders  right  and  left  as  he  went. 
Drum  and  bugle  called  to  arms.  The  soldiers 
tumbled  out,  formed  in  line,  and  rushed  to  meet  the 
foe.  The  battle  was  on  in  earnest. 

The  fires  were  stamped  out,  leaving  the  camp 
in  darkness.  Pandemonium  broke  loose.  The  rat- 
tle of  discharging  rifles  grew  to  a  roar.  The  red- 
men's  war-whoops  were  answered  by  yells.  The 
castanet-like  click  of  rattling  strings  of  deer-hoofs 


94  THE  SIGN   OF   THE  PROPHET 

mingled  with  the  muttering  roll  of  drums  and  the 
piercing  peals  of  bugles.  Terrified  oxen  lowed  and 
bellowed ;  frightened  pack  and  draught  horses 
neighed  shrilly  as  they  broke  their  tethers,  and  ran 
madly  about  the  camp.  Officers  —  pistol  in  hand  — 
rode  along  the  lines,  encouraging  their  men  to  stand 
firm. 

The  impetuosity  of  the  'savages  —  born  of  igno- 
rance and  fanaticism — was  a  fair  match  for  the  cool 
valor  of  the  whites.  Neither  party  would  give 
ground.  The  battle  spread  until  it  raged  fiercely 
upon  three  sides  of  the  camp.  The  Indians  forgot 
their  ancient  tactics  and  boldly  fought  in  the  open. 
They  met  the  soldiers  face  to  face — and  madly 
charged  the  lines  of  bayonets.  Again  and  again 
the  opposing  forces  came  together  with  a  reeling 
shock.  Blood  drenched  the  dead  grass.  Curses 
and  groans  commingled,;  and  over  all  rose  the  weird 
voice  of  Tenskwatawa  —  upon  an  eminence  a  short 
distance  away  —  chanting  his  war-song. 

Major  Daviess  and  Colonel  White  fell  mortally 
wounded.  Captain  Spencer  and  his  lieutenants 
were  all  dead;  and  Captain  Warwick  was  dying. 
Colonel  Owen  dropped  at  the  governor's  side.  He 
was  mounted  upon  a  white  horse  at  the  time ;  and 
as  Harrison  had  ridden  a  white  horse  on  the  pre- 
vious day,  undoubtedly  the  Indians  mistook  the 
aide  for  the  commander.  Dead  and  dying  braves 
and  soldiers  lay  thick  upon  the  hotly  contested  field. 

During  the  battle  Harrison  spurred  from  one  part 
of  the  camp  to  another,  disposing  his  troops  to  the 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  95 

best  advantage.  His  officers  begged  him  not  to  ex- 
pose himself,  but  he  persisted  in  being  where  the 
fire  was  hottest.  His  courage  and  coolness  did 
much  to  hold  the  men  steady  under  the  deadly 
fusillade  in  the  darkness.  One  ball  pierced  his  hat 
rim  and  another  cut  a  lock  of  hair  from  his  temple 
—  but  still  he  rode  unharmed  through  the  scathing 
fire.  Seeing  an  ensign — a  Frenchman  —  sheltering 
himself  behind  a  tree,  the  governor  cried,  angrily  : 

' '  Out  from  behind  that  tree,  you  cowardly  ras- 
cal!" 

"  Me  not  behind  ze  tree,"  explained  the  ensign  ; 
"ze  tree  in  front  of  me.  Zere,  ze  tree  —  here,  my 
position.  What  can  I  do,  governor?  " 

With  a  laugh  Harrison  rode  on  and  left  the  fel- 
low. 

A  Winnebago  broke  through  the  lines  of  militia 
and  dropped  dead  within  the  camp.  A  tall  militia- 
man sprang  forward  to  scalp  the  prostrate  savage  — 
but  received  a  death-wound. 

"  Served  him  right !  "  snarled  Joe  Farley,  who 
was  loading  and  firing  with  the  rapidity  and  pre- 
cision of  a  piece  of  machinery.  ' '  Tryin'  to  make 
an  Injin  of  hisself  —  the  heathen  !  " 

The  left  flank  began  to  give  way  before  the 
desperate  and  persistent  foe.  Ross  Douglas  and 
Bright  Wing  were  fighting  side  by  side,  in  that 
quarter.  A  half-dozen  warriors  sprang  through 
the  broken  lines,  brandishing  their  arms  and  yell- 
ing fiendishly.  Four  of  them  fell  dead  in  their 
tracks.  Douglas  and  his  comrade  engaged  in  a 


96  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

hand-to-hand  combat  with  the  other  two.  The 
Wyandot  quickly  dispatched  his  opponent,  but 
Ross  was  not  so  fortunate.  His  foot  slipped  upon 
the  blood-soaked  sod,  and  he  fell  prostrate.  His 
savage  foe,  with  raised  tomahawk,  was  upon  him. 
The  young  scout  closed  his  eyes,  expecting  death. 
But  the  next  moment  the  Indian  lay  gasping  for 
breath,  with  Duke's  keen  fangs  buried  in  his 
throat. 

' '  Ugh  !  Duke  him  here  at  right  time  ! ' '  grunted 
Bright  Wing,  as  he  rammed  home  another  charge. 

The  ends  of  the  broken  line  swung  into  place  — 
and  still  the  battle  raged. 

The  rain  ceased  to  fall ;  the  sky  began  to  clear. 
Darkness  gave  place  to  dawn.  The  commander 
ordered  a  charge  all  along  the  lines.  Inch  by  inch 
the  savages  gave  way  —  in  spite  of  the  bravery  of 
their  chiefs,  and  the  inspiration  of  Tenskwatawa's 
war-song.  At  last  they  could  stand  the  cold  steel 
of  the  bayonets  no  longer.  They  broke  and  fled. 
Down  the  slope  and  across  the  boggy  prairie,  toward 
their  town,  they  hastened,  carrying  many  of  their 
dead  and  wounded  with  them.  Victory  had  perched 
upon  Harrison's  banner;  and  the  palefaces  had  won 
the  battle  of  Tippecanoe. 

The  victorious  troops  pursued  the  fleeing  sav- 
ages, until  the  yielding  surface  of  the  wet  prairie 
compelled  the  mounted  riflemen  to  halt.  Then 
the  whole  force  returned  to  camp.  The  whites  had 
lost  one  hundred  and  eighty  in  killed  and  wounded ; 
the  Indians,  probably,  had  lost  an  equal  number. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  97 

At  sunrise  squads  of  soldiers  were  engaged  in 
burying  the  dead  and  carrying  the  wounded  to  the 
surgeon's  quarters.  Joe  Farley  was  on  the  detail. 
At  the  southwestern  angle  of  the  camp,  he  came 
upon  the  body  of  a  tall  and  lank  militiaman.  The 
man  lay  upon  his  side  —  a  contorted,  blood-stained 
heap.  His  head  rested  upon  his  arm,  and  his  face 
was  partially  concealed.  Supposing  that  the  poor 
fellow  was  dead,  Farley  caught  him  by  the  shoul- 
der, to  turn  him  over.  The  dying  man  moaned 
feebly.  Bending  over  him,  Joe  said  tenderly  : 

"I  didn't  mean  to  be  rough,  friend,  I  thought 
you  was  —  was  —  are  you  hurt  bad?" 

The  blue  lips  moved  —  and  these  words  were 
breathed  into  Farley's  face  : 

' '  I  left  my  children  in  ol'  Kaintuck, 

In  the  cabin  with  the'r  mother  ; 
And  now  the'r  pap  has  got  his  death  — 
An'  they'll — never  git — an-oth-er!" 

The  faint  voice  ended  in  a  whispering  quaver. 
Joe  sprang  erect,  his  limbs  trembling,  his  face  as 
white  as  chalk. 

"  Poor  critter  !  "  he  murmured,  pityingly.  "  He's 
dyin';  but  he's  still  thinkin'  of  his  wife  an'  chil- 
dren. Poor  little  woman  —  an'  poor  little  boys  an' 
gals — down  in  ol'  Kaintuck  !  You'll  never  git  an- 
other husband  an'  father,  that's  a  fact ;  not  one 
that  '11  think  as  much  of  you,  anyhow.  His  words 
has  come  true.  He  must  'ave  had  a  prem'nition  o' 
what  was  in  store  fer  him.  Ding-it-all-to-dangna- 
7 


98  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

tion !  I'm  sorry  fer  him  —  poor  feller  !  An'  I  wish 
I  hadn't  growled  so  much  'bout  his  caterwaulin' — 
I  do,  by  Katherine  !  But  I  thought  he  was  jest 
foolin' — I  didn't  know  he  was  pourin'  out  his  soul 
in  singin'." 

Joe  broke  off  suddenly  and  dashed  the  tears  from 
his  eyes.  The  dying  Kentuckian  gave  one  expir- 
ing groan  —  and  passed  over  the  dark  river.  The 
woodman  stood  silently  looking  down  at  the  lump 
of  senseless  clay  for  several  minutes.  Then  he 
turned  and  strode  away,  muttering  : 

"I  don't  like  this  buryin'  business,  nohow.  It 
makes  me  down  in  the  mouth.  It's  worse  'n  drivin' 
oxen,  by  a  long  shot.  Poor  little  boys  an'  gals 
down  in  ol'  Kaintuck  !  They  ain't  got  no  pap 
now  —  they'll  never  be  rocked  to  sleep  in  his  arms 
no  more." 

He  stopped  and  shook  his  head  sadly,  reflec- 
tively. 

"  Where  Fleet  Foot  and  Duke?  " 

Farley  glanced  up  and  beheld  Bright  Wing  at  his 
side. 

"  Ross  an'  the  bloodhoun'  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"Ugh!" 

"  I  don't  know.  But  where  you  find  one  of  'em 
you'll  find  t'other,  most  likely.  I  hain't  set  eyes  on 
the  dog  sence  last  night,  but  I  saw  his  master  this 
mornin' — jest  after  the  Injins  broke  an'  run. 
You'll  find  'em  both  'round  the  camp  somewheres." 

"Me  look  —  no  find,"  answered  the  Wyandot 
with  a  positive  shake  of  the  head. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  99 

"  Well,"  Joe  returned  dryly,  "  I  wouldn't  lose  no 
sleep  'bout  'em,  Injin,  if  I  was  you.  They're  able 
to  take  keer  o'  the'rselves. " 

"Me  look  much  long  time  —  no  find  dog  —  no 
find  master,"  the  Indian  persisted. 

' '  That  so  ?  "  Joe  replied  —  a  shade  of  uneasiness 
in  his  tone.  "Well,  you've  got  nothin'  else  to  do 
—  so  go  on  huntin'.  When  I  git  through  with  this 
bloody  business  o'  helpin'  to  take  keer  o'  the  dead 
an'  wounded,  I'll  take  a  look  'round  with  you. 
By  the  way,  I'm  gittin'  most  pow'rful  hungry. 
But  a  feller  told  me  a  little  bit  ago  the  beef  an'  meal 
was  all  gone,  an'  some  of  us  'Id  have  to  eat  hoss 
flesh  fer  our  breakfast.  Fer  my  part,  I  ain't  a 
hankeriri1 .  I  can  go  purty  nigh  anything,  but  I 
draw  the  line  at  hoss-steaks.  It's  a  sight  worse  'n 
havin'  a  lot  o'  women  in  love  with  you.  W'y,  In- 
jin, one  time  so  many  female  genders  got  in  love 
with  me,  I " 

The  voluble  fellow  stopped  speaking  and  looked 
around.  The  Wyandot  had  disappeared. 

"  By  my  gran'mother's  ear-trumpet !  "  muttered 
Joe.  ' '  That  redskin  comes  an'  goes  like  a  shadder. 
S'pose  he  didn't  like  my  talk  'bout  women-folks. 
He  must  'ave  some  ol'  love  affair  ranklin'  in  his  giz- 
zard. I'm  mighty  awful  hungry,  I  swan.  Well, 
if  I  can't  eat,  I  can  smoke." 

And  filling  and  lighting  his  pipe,  he  hurried 
away  to  procure  help  in  removing  the  body  of  the 
Kentuckian  to  the  place  of  burial. 

After  a  scant  breakfast,  the  soldiers  busied  them- 


loo  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

selves  about  the  camp,  righting  overturned  vehicles, 
securing  stampeded  animals,  interring  the  dead,  and 
throwing  up  a  ring  of  fortifications.  Governor 
Harrison  deemed  the  latter  proceeding  a  necessary 
precaution.  He  thought  the  savages  might  renew 
the  battle  as  soon  as  darkness  came  again. 

The  day  passed.  Night  came  —  a  night  of  fe- 
verish expectancy  and  unrest  to  the  exhausted  sol- 
diers. Joe  Farley  and  Bright  Wing  did  not  sleep, 
but  sat  by  the  fire  all  night  long,  starting  at  every 
unusual  sound  and  longing  for  morning.  All  the 
afternoon  they  had  searched  for  Ross  Douglas  and 
his  dog,  but  had  found  no  trace  of  either.  It 
was  the  opinion  of  all  to  whom  they  spoke,  that  the 
rash  young  scout  had  ventured  too  far  in  pursuit  of 
the  savages  and  had  been  killed  or  captured. 

Dawn  came  at  last.  After  breakfast,  General 
Wells  took  the  dragoons  and  mounted  riflemen  and 
went  to  reconnoiter  the  Prophet's  Town.  Farley 
and  Bright  Wing  obtained  permission  to  accompany 
the  detachment. 

The  general  found  the  place  deserted.  But  one 
inhabitant  remained  within  its  walls  —  a  chief 
with  a  broken  leg.  The  whites  dressed  his  wound 
and  made  other  provision  for  him,  and  told  him  to 
say  to  his  people  that  if  they  would  desert  the 
standard  of  the  Prophet  and  return  to  their  own 
tribes,  they  would  be  forgiven. 

The  troops  found  a  large  quantity  of  corn,  which 
was  very  acceptable ;  also  some  hogs  and  domestic 
fowls.  These  they  removed  to  their  camp. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  101 

The  savages  had  fled  precipitately,  leaving  many 
of  their  arms  and  household  utensils  behind  them. 
A  large  number  of  the  guns  were  yet  wrapped  in 
the  coverings  in  which  the  British  had  imported 
them. 

Farley  and  Bright  Wing  found  no  trace  of  their 
friend,  until  they  were  slowly  and  sadly  returning 
to  camp.  Then,  a  hundred  yards  from  the  north- 
eastern gate  of  the  palisade,  Joe  picked  up  a  silver 
button  belonging  to  Douglas's  hunting-shirt.  He 
showed  it  to  the  Wyandot,  who  simply  nodded 
meaningly  and  pointed  in  the  direction  in  which 
the  Prophet's  followers  had  fled.  On  reaching 
camp,  Farley  carried  the  memento  to  Governor 
Harrison  and  remarked  : 

"  Gov'nor,  Ross  Douglas  has  been  missin'  sence 
the  battle.  I  picked  up  this  button  close  to  the 
Prophet's  Town.  Ross  is  a  pris'ner  'mong  the  In- 
jins,  as  sure's  shootin' — him  an'  his  dog,  too." 

"  How  did  it  happen?  "  cried  Harrison. 

"  I  don't  know.  But  me  and  Bright  Wing  wants 
to  foller  the  dang  redskins  an'  try  to  rescue  him 


"It's  madness  to  think  of  such  a  thing,"  the 
governor  interrupted.  "You'll  throw  away  your 
lives  to  no  purpose. ' ' 

"It  don't  make  no  differ' nee,"  Joe  said  dog- 
gedly. ' '  Life  ain't  worth  much  to  such  poor 
scamps  as  me,  at  best  —  an'  it  won't  be  worth 
nothirf  if  Ross  Douglas  is  tortured  an'  killed  by  the 
In j ins.  No,  gov'nor,  me  an'  Bright  Wing's  goin' 


102  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

after  him.  You'll  give  us  leave  to  go  —  an'  not 
have  us  desert,  won't  you,  gov'nor?" 

Joe  asked  the  question  pleadingly,  tears  standing 
in  his  pale,  watery  eyes. 

"Yes,  £•<?/"  Harrison  said,  grasping  the  wood- 
man's calloused  hand.  "  I  discharge  you  here  and 
now.  And  may  the  Almighty's  protecting  power 
accompany  you  ! ' ' 

"Amen!  Thank  you,  gov'nor  —  an'  good-by," 
Farley  answered. 

That  afternoon  Farley  and  Bright  Wing  shoul- 
dered their  rifles  and  set  out  on  the  trail  of  the  In- 
dians. The  next  day  the  army  started  upon  the 
return  journey  to  Fort  Harrison  and  Vincennes  — 
the  wagons  loaded  with  wounded  soldiers.  The 
campaign  had  been  short,  sharp,  and  effective. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ON  THAT  fateful  morning  of  the  battle  of 
Tippecanoe,  Ross  Douglas  fought  in  the 
front  ranks  until  the  savages  broke  and  fled. 
Then  he  joined  in  the  hot  pursuit.  Duke  kept 
close  at  his  master's  side,  growling  and  baying 
viciously.  In  the  charge  Bright  Wing  got  sepa- 
rated from  his  white  comrade,  and  returned  to 
camp.  Ross  impetuously  pressed  onward,  keeping 
his  eyes  upon  the  flying  foe  and  glancing  neither  to 
the  right  nor  the  left,  until  he  found  himself  at  the 
foot  of  the  slope  leading  up  to  the  Indian  village. 
He  looked  around  in  surprise  —  he  and  the  dog 
were  alone.  He  beheld  the  troops  —  a  dense, 
dusky  mass —  a  half  mile  away. 

' '  Cowards  ! ' '  the  young  man  muttered  scorn- 
fully. "Why  have  they  given  up  the  pursuit? 
Now's  the  time  to  win  a  glorious  victory  and  make 
a  lasting  peace.  Fools !  To  come  hundreds  of 
miles  to  indulge  in  a  mere  skirmish.  They  should 
follow  up,  their  success,  and  annihilate  the  Prophet 
and  his  bloodthirsty  band.  If  they  stop  at  this, 
nothing  will  have  beeri  accomplished.  But  I  may 
as  well  go  back  with  the  others.  Ah  !  who's  that  ? 
Bradford!" 

It  was  indeed  the  scar-faced  scout.  At  full 
speed  he  came  running  down  the  slope,  gesticu- 

(103) 


104  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

lating  wildly.  What  could  it  mean?  Ross  had 
just  reloaded  his  rifle.  Now  he  rested  his  finger 
upon  the  sensitive  trigger  and  wonderingly  awaited 
the  deserter's  approach. 

"Flee  —  flee  for  your  life,  Douglas!"  Bradford 
shouted  excitedly. 

Duke,  who  had  been  trying  to  warn  his  preoccu- 
pied master  of  approaching  danger,  by  a  series  of 
low  hoarse  growls,  now  began  to  bark  furiously. 
Ross  hastily  glanced  around  him.  He  was  almost 
surrounded  by  a  party  of  Indians.  They  had  been 
in  hiding  behind  a  clump  of  bushes  near  the  foot 
of  the  incline,  awaiting  the  chance  to  cut  off  the  re- 
treat of  some  venturesome  white.  The  gray  fog 
rising  from  the  marshy  prairie  had  helped  to  con- 
ceal them.  While  the  unsuspecting  Douglas  had 
stood  gazing  at  the  walls  of  the  town,  his  cun- 
ning enemies  had  risen  from  their  hiding-place,  and 
like  silent  specters  glided  out  upon  the  soft  prairie 
and  thrown  themselves  in  a  semicircle  around  him. 
Now  they  yelled  exultingly  and  began  to  close  in. 

Ross  did  not  wait  to  see  or  hear  more.  In- 
stantly he  resolved  to  make  a  dash  for  liberty. 
"  Come,  Duke  !  "  he  cried  ;  and  with  the  fleetness  of 
a  deer  sprang  away,  attempting  to  break  through 
the  line  of  his  foes. 

Bradford  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  slope. 
"  Hold  !  "  he  shouted  frantically.  "  It's  too  late 
—  you'll  throw  away  your  life  !  " 

But  Douglas  did  not  heed  the  warning.  He 
eluded  the  grasp  of  one  of  the  Indians  who  barred 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  105 

his  way  ;  discharged  his  rifle  full  in  the  face  of  an- 
other ;  struck  down  a  third  —  and  leaping  over  his 
prostrate  body,  sped  on.  A  half-score  of  guns 
cracked  simultaneously.  But  the  bullets  failed  to 
reach  the  moving  mark  ;  and  master  and  dog  were 
beyond  the  line  of  their  enemies.  They  would 
have  distanced  their  pursuers  and  escaped,  had  not 
an  unforeseen  accident  occurred.  Ross's  foot  became 
entangled  in  a  bunch  of  coarse,  wet  grass,  and  he 
tripped  and  fell  heavily.  Ere  he  could  rise  his  ene- 
mies were  upon  him. 

Duke  sprang  at  the  throat  of  the  foremost  assail- 
ant, and  dog  and  brave  fell  to  the  ground.  Over 
and  over  they  rolled  —  the  hound  striving  to  bury 
his  fangs  in  the  Indian's  throat,  the  savage  at- 
tempting to  sheath  his  knife  in  the  animal's  heart. 

Douglas  got  upon  his  feet,  clubbed  his  rifle,  and 
laid  about  him  vigorously.  But  his  foes  over- 
powered him  and  pressed  him  to  the  earth.  Seeing 
which,  Duke  relinquished  his  hold  upon  the  throat 
of  his  prostrate  adversary  and  flew  to  the  aid  of  his 
master.  The  dying  warrior  gasped,  and  attempted 
to  arise — blood  spurting  in  crimson  jets  from  his 
lacerated  arteries. 

At  the  critical  moment,  Bradford  rushed  among 
the  braves,  and  flinging  them  right  and  left,  thun- 
dered in  the  Indian  tongue  : 

"  Hold,  you  mad  devils  !  Would  you  overpower 
and  murder  a  man  who  has  fought  bravely  for  his 
life  ?  Harm  not  a  hair  of  his  head,  or  your  lives 
shall  pay  the  penalty.  He  is  my  prisoner. ' ' 


io6  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Bending  down,  he  assisted  Douglas  to  arise.  As 
soon  as  he  could  speak,  the  young  man  called  to  the 
bloodhound  : 

"Here,  Duke  !     Down  — down,  I  say  !  " 

The  obedient  animal  left  the  savage  with  whom 
he  was  struggling,  and  crouched  at  his  master's  feet 
—  panting,  whining,  and  rolling  his  blood-rimmed 
eyes.  The  Indians  drew  apart  a  short  distance, 
grunting  and  grumbling  in  a  surly  and  threatening 
manner.  .For  a  full  minute  the  two  white  men  stood 
looking  at  each  other.  Douglas's  chest  was  still 
heaving  from  his  recent  exertions;  and  his  words 
came  brokenly : 

' '  You  saved  my  life.  I  thank  you  for  it !  But 
I'd  rather  you  had  left  me  to  my  fate." 

"Why ? "  Bradford  asked  coolly. 

"  Because  I  don't  like  to  be  Under  obligations  to 
a  traitor,"  Ross  replied  boldly. 

The  younger  man  expected  to  see  the  older' s  face 
pale  with  anger.  But  a  smile  actually  rested  upon 
Bradford's  scarred  visage,  as  he  returned  calmly  : 

"You're  mistaken,  iny  young  friend.  I'm  no 
traitor.  You  are  loyal  to  the  Americans — /  am 
loyal  to  the  English." 

' '  Then  you  are  a  spy  in  the  employ  of  the 
British." 

"  Y-e-s.  Or  an  agent  to  look  after  their  interests 
among  the  Indians,  rather." 

"  I  despise  you  none  the  less,"  Ross  cried. 

Bradford  continued  to  smile  as  he  said : 

"You  are  young  —  therefore   you  are  indiscreet. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  107 

I  have  saved  your  life  ;  I  would  be  your  friend.  But 
if  you  don't  desire  my  friendship,  I  can  turn  you 
over  to  the  tender  mercies  of  those  red  fiends,  who 
are  hungering  to  tear  you  limb  from  limb.  Even 
now  they  are  grumbling  about  my  interference.  I 
may  lose  my  life  for  my  temerity.  You're  un- 
grateful. ' ' 

' '  If  you  regret  your  act  of  mercy  and  fear  for 
your  own  safety,"  Douglas  sneered,  "call your  sav- 
age hounds  and  tell  them  to  do  their  worst.  I  can 
die  fighting." 

"I  don't  regret  what  I  have  done,"  Bradford 
returned  huskily,  a  shade  of  sadness  in  his  voice, 
' '  nor  do  I  fear  for  my  own  safety.  I  don't  value 
life  —  I  don't  fear  death.  And  I'll  save  you  or 
perish  with  you.  But  you  must  listen  to  reason  ; 
you  must  do  my  bidding.  Just  at  present  I  have 
great  influence  with  the  Indians.  I'll  exert  it  to 
the  utmost  in  your  behalf.  But  you  and  your 
vicious  dog  have  sorely  punished  your  assailants. 
Two  warriors  are  dead  and  several  others  are 
wounded.  Their  comrades  thirst  for  revenge.  Hist ! 
Here  they  come.  Say  not  a  word  —  leave  it  all  to. 
me." 

A  stalwart  Indian  came  forward  and  grunted  sur- 
lily : 

"  The  paleface's  arm  is  strong  — his  aim  is  sure  ; 
the  fangs  of  his  dog  are  long  and  sharp.  Two 
braves  are  sleeping  with  their  fathers ;  and  three 
others  are  binding  up  their  wounds.  The  paleface 
and  his  dog  must  die." 


io8  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  No,  lie  shall  not  die,  chief,"  Bradford  cried  an- 
grily. "  He  fought  for  life  and  liberty.  You  as- 
sailed him  twenty  to  one.  I  rescued  him  —  he  is 
my  prisoner.  I  shall  take  him  to  the  village  with 
me." 

"  He  is  not  Scar  Face's  prisoner,"  the  chief  re- 
turned fiercely,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  tomahawk 
— while  his  warriors  crowded  around  him,  mutter- 
ing threateningly. 

"  Tenskwatawa  shall  decide,"  Bradford  answered 
coolly. 

' '  Tenskwatawa  is  a  squaw  !  He  promised  us  vic- 
tory ;  we  met  defeat. ' ' 

' '  Say  that  to  Tenskwatawa,  and  he  will  cast  a 
spell  upon  you." 

A  grayish  pallor  overspread  the  chief's  dusky  vis- 
age. His  eyes  dilated  and  his  jaw  dropped.  Brad- 
ford quickly  followed  up  the  advantage  he  had 
gained.  Leaning  forward,  he  whispered  in  the  In- 
dian's ear  : 

"Shall  I  repeat  your  words  to  the  Prophet? " 

Abject  terror  took  possession  of  the  chief.  He 
trembled,  and  gasped  for  breath.  His  warriors  ut- 
tered startled  grunts  and  drew  away.  Bradford 
continued  sternly  : 

' '  Then,  take  your  braves  and  be  off  to  the  village. 
I  will  follow  with  the  prisoner." 

Without  a  word  in  reply,  the  savages  obeyed  the 
order.  Bradford  waited  until  they  had  disappeared 
within  the  walls.  Then  turning  to  Douglas,  he 
said: 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  109 

"  Come — you  must  accompany  me." 

"We're  alone,"  Ross  answered  quietly;  "you 
can't  compel  me  to  go  with  you." 

"  My  gun  is  loaded — your' 's  is  empty,"  was  the 
significant  reply. 

"True  —  but  you  wouldn't  shoot  me." 

Bradford  started. 

"What  makes  you  think  that?"  he  asked 
quickly. 

"  I  don't  know.     But  you  wouldn't." 

"No,  I  wouldn't  injure  you  —  even  if  you  left 
me  to  my  fate." 

"Your  fate?     I  don't  understand  you." 

"  If  you  leave  me  to  return  to  the  village  alone, 
I  shall  meet  death  at  the  hands  of  the  savages. 
They'll  kill  me  for  breaking  faith  with  them." 

' '  Then  go  with  me  to  the  camp  of  the  whites " 

'  'And  be  shot  as  a  spy!  "  Bradford  completed. 

' '  True  ! ' '  Douglas  said  slowly  and  impressively. 
"  Bradford,  you  are  a  British  spy — an  enemy  of  my 
country.  I  hate  you  —  I  despise  you  !  " — The  older 
man  turned  pale  to  the  lips,  but  did  not  interrupt 
his  companion. —  "But  you  have  befriended  me; 
and  I'll  not  be  guilty  of  the  sin  of  ingratitude. 
You  shan't  sacrifice  your  life  for  my  liberty. 
Take  my  arms.  I'm  your  prisoner." 

"  Keep  your  arms,"  Bradford  returned  hoarsely, 
his  chest  heaving,  his  white  lips  twitching.  ' '  Re- 
load your  gun.  We  may  have  to  fight  shoulder  to 
shoulder.  I^et's  be  prepared  to  sell  our  lives 
dearly." 


no  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Silently  Ross  reloaded  and  primed  his  rifle.  Then 
he  said  simply  : 

"I'm  ready." 

"  Come,"  was  the  gruff  response. 

Side  by  side,  the  two  men  ascended  the  slope  and 
entered  the  unguarded  gateway  of  the  palisade. 
Duke  accompanied  them.  An  extraordinary  spec- 
tacle met  their  gaze.  Hundreds  of  armed  warriors 
—  Shawnees,  Winnebagoes,  Miatnis,  Wyandots,  and 
others  —  were  swarming  promiscuously  about. 
Squaws  and  children  bearing  bags  and  bundles  hur- 
ried hither  and  thither.  All  was  bustle  and  confu- 
sion. The  whole  resembled  a  hive  of  angry  bees 
into  which  some  venturesome  youngster  had  thrust 
a  stick. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  all  this?"  Ross  in- 
quired of  his  companion. 

"  They  are  preparing  to  abandon  the  town,"  was 
the  reply. 

"  Shall  we  go  with  them?  " 

"If  we're  alive  at  the  time  —  yes." 

They  elbowed  their  way  through  the  throng,  at- 
tracting no  little  attention. 

"Scar  Face,"  muttered  a  Winnebago,  as  they 
passed. 

"Fleet  Foot,"  grunted  a  Wyandot. 

"  Does  he  mean  you?  "  asked  Bradford  turning  to 
his  companion. 

"  Yes." 

"You  merit  the  name.  Does  the  Wyandot  war- 
rior know  you  ?  " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  in 

"Undoubtedly.  I've  traded  among  the  mem- 
bers of  the  tribe,  for  years." 

"Do  you  speak  their  language?" 

"  I  speak  several  Indian  tongues." 

"So  much  the  better.  Our  mutual  knowledge 
may  be  of  value  to  us." 

They  were  conversing  in  low  tones,  all  the  while 
proceeding  in  the  direction  of  the  council-lodge. 

"And  they  call  you  Scar  Face,"  Douglas  care- 
lessly remarked. 

"  Yes,"  answered  his  companion,  in  a  tone  of  in- 
tense bitterness  —  the  red  scar  upon  his  cheek  blaz- 
ing like  a  beacon  light  of  danger. 

Ross  instantly  realized  his  mistake,  and  hastened 
to  say  : 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  your  feelings.  I  wouldn't 
do  that  needlessly,  though  I  look  upon  you  as 
an  enemy." 

"I  fully  understand  your  feeling  toward  me," 
Bradford  replied,  his  features  working.  "  It's  un- 
necessary for  you  to  explain." 

Douglas  was  surprised.  Who  was  this  strange 
man,  to  whom  he  owed  his  life  and  for  whom  he 
felt  such  antipathy  —  and  who  appeared  determined 
to  be  his  friend?  To  relieve  his  embarrassment, 
the  younger  man  asked  : 

' '  Have  you  spent  much  of  your  life  among  the 
Indians?  " 

"  Half  of  it,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

By  this  time  they  were  neariiig  the  entrance  of 
the  council  lodge  ;  and  Bradford  continued  : 


112  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"There — we  have  safely  run  the  gauntlet  of 
scowling  looks  and  threatening  gestures.  I  feared 
we  should  not  get  through  so  easily.  Now  we'll 
have  an  interview  with  Tenskwatawa.  Oh  !  there 
he  is." 

In  front  of  the  council  lodge  stood  the  Prophet. 
He  was  alone.  His  head  was  bowed ;  his  chin, 
buried  in  the  folds  of  his  buffalo-robe.  He  was  a 
bronze  statue  of  gloom  —  the  personification  of  ut- 
ter dejection. 

"  Come,"  whispered  Bradford  to  Douglas.  "  Let's 
hurry  to  him  while  he's  alone.  Our  safety  de- 
pends upon  our  winning  him  to  our  side." 

Ross  hesitated  and  drew  back. 

' '  Don't  be  a  fool !  "  Bradford  hissed.  "This  is 
no  time  for  squeamish  notions  of  independence." 

"  But  I  hate  him  !  "  Douglas  panted.  "I  would 
kill  him ! " 

"Nevertheless,"  was  the  unmoved  reply,  "he 
holds  the  winning  cards,  at  present.  Our  lives  are 
in  his  hands.  No  doubt  the  chief  and  his  warriors 
have  been  to  him.  Come  —  and  leave  everything 
to  me." 

At  that  moment  Tenskwatawa  lifted  his  head  and 
fixed  his  one  eye  upon  them.  A  malicious  smile 
flickered  about  the  corners  of  his  sensual  mouth  — 
and  was  gone.  Again  he  was  a  graven  image. 

Bradford  was  about  to  speak,  when  a  gigantic  In- 
dian accompanied  by  a  score  of  warriors  uncere- 
moniously elbowed  him  aside  and  stopped  before  the 
Prophet.  The  newcomer  was  Winuemac,  the  great 


THE  SIGN   OF   THE  PROPHET  113 

Pottawatomie  chief.  His  hands  were  clenched ;  his 
features,  black  with  rage.  The  Prophet  kept  his 
gaze  fixed  upon  the  ground  and  gave  no  heed  to  the 
angry  chief's  presence. 

"  Tenskwatawa  is  a  Shawnee  squaw  !"  Winne- 
mac  thundered. 

' '  He  promised  us  success ;  we  received  defeat. 
He  said  the  palefaces  were  crazy  ;  but  they  were  in 
their  senses,  and  fought  like  devils.  He  told  us 
that  we  should  rejoice  over  the  destruction  of  the 
White  Chief's  army  ;  we  mourn  for  our  young  men 
slain.  He  assured  us  that  we  should  not  taste 
death  ;  we  feasted  upon  it.  Tecumseh  is  a  brave 
warrior  ;  Tenskwatawa  is  a  squaw  !  See,  braves  !  I 
spit  upon  him  and  slap  his  face  !  " 

And  suiting  the  action  to  the  words,  the  enraged 
chief  spat  upon  the  Prophet  and  dealt  him  a  re- 
sounding slap  upon  the  cheek. 

The  assembled  warriors  yelled  in  derision.  Scores 
of  others,  attracted  by  the  uproar,  came  running  to 
the  spot.  Bradford  and  Douglas  found  themselves 
in  the  center  of  a  mob  of  hooting,  gesticulating 
demons,  ready  to  wreak  their  rage  upon  any  object 
that  offered.  The  two  white  men  looked  anxiously 
about  them,  but  saw  no  way  of  escape. 

Tenskwatawa  did  not  resent  Winnemac's  insult. 
Instead,  he  lifted  his  hand  to  command  silence ; 
and,  as  soon  as  he  could  make  himself  heard,  began 
meekly : 

' '  Tenskwatawa  is  no  warrior  —  he  is  the  Prophet 
of  the  Great  Spirit.  Tenskwatawa  is  no  squaw, 
8 


U4  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

though  he  has  borne  the  burdens  of  his  people  for 
many  moons.  The  Great  Spirit  promised  Tensk- 
watawa  the  victory,  and  he  gave  the  message  to  his 
children.  The  Great  Spirit  did  not  lie " 

1 '  Tenskwatawa  lied ! ' '  Winnemac  shouted 
fiercely. 

Unheeding  the  interruption,  the  Prophet  contin- 
ued : 

"  The  Great  Spirit  made  no  mistake  :  but  Tensk- 
watawa blundered.  He  parted  with  his  sign — his 
power.  He  gave  it  to  the  noble  Winnemac,  that 
he  might  lead  his  warriors  to  victory.  Tenskwat- 
awa robbed  himself  of  his  power  —  he  was  help- 
less. The  noble  Winnemac  could  make  no  use  of 
the  sign  —  he  knew  not  the  secret  of  its  power. 
The  battle  was  lost.  Tenskwatawa  blundered." 

Grunts  of  approval  followed  this  apparently 
frank  confession.  Seeing  which,  Winnemac  cried 
sneeringly : 

"Tenskwatawa  lost  his  power  —  and  it  is  gone 
forever.  He  is  a  babbling  papoose  ! ' ' 

"  Return  to  him  his  sign,  and  he  will  show  the 
noble  Winnemac  that  he  is  mistaken, ' '  the  Prophet 
returned  quietly. 

"Take  it !  "  sneered  Winnemac,  drawing  the  ring 
from  his  finger  and  contemptuously  flinging  it  at 
the  feet  of  its  owner. 

Tenskwatawa  secured  the  talisman  and  restored 
it  to  its  accustomed  place  upon  his  right  hand.  In- 
stantly a  remarkable  change  took  place  in  his  as- 
pect and  demeanor.  No  longer  was  he  a  humble 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  115 

suppliant  begging  pardon  for  past  mistakes.  He 
proudly  drew  himself  erect,  his  lips  curling  scorn- 
fully. The  pupil  of  his  eye  contracted.  The 
ring  upon  his  finger  scintillated  in  the  rays 
of  the  morning  sun.  With  a  sinuous,  snake- 
like  movement,  he  glided  to  Winnemac's  side  ;  and 
suddenly  pushing  the  sparkling  jewel  before  the 
startled  chief's  eyes,  hissed  : 

"  The  sign  —  the  power  !  Look  —  look  !  you  can- 
not take  your  eyes  from  it !  " 

Winnemac's  features  froze  —  became  rigid,  ex- 
pressionless. His  eyeballs  bulged  from  their  sock- 
ets and  remained  fixed.  The  Prophet  slowly  waved 
his  hand  to  and  fro.  The  Pottawatomie's  head 
turned  from  side  to  side  —  his  gaze  followed  the 
movements  of  the  talisman.  Faster  and  faster  the 
Prophet's  hand  flew.  Then,  of  a  sudden,  he 
leaned  forward  and  whispered  in  the  chief's  ear : 

"You  are  drowsy.  Sleep  —  sleep!  Your  limbs 
are  heavy  —  feeble.  Sleep  —  sleep  ! ' ' 

Winnemac's  eyelids  dropped  ;  his  frozen  features 
thawed.  He  trembled,  swayed  —  and  sank  upon 
the  ground,  a  senseless  clod.  Tenskwatawa  pointed 
his  finger  at  the  sleeping  warrior  and  shouted  tri- 
umphantly : 

"Look,  children!  Look  upon  the  valiant  Win- 
nemac.  He  doubted  my  power,  he  spat  upon  me 
and  defied  me.  See  !  he  lies  helpless  at  my  feet. 
The  Great  Spirit  willed  it  —  and  he  sleeps.  Awaken 
him,  if  you  can.  You  cannot.  The  loudest  thun- 
der would  not  rouse  him ;  the  keenest  torture  would 


ii6  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

not  cause  him  to  stir.  Thus  will  he  sleep  forever, 
unless  the  Great  Spirit,  through  me,  wills  that  he 
awake." 

The  assembled  braves  pressed  forward  and  craned 
their  necks,  to  gaze  upon  their  vanquished  chief- 
tain. One  look  was  sufficient.  To  their  untutored 
minds,  a  miracle  had  been  wrought.  They  surged 
backward — silent,  awestruck. 

' '  Listen  ! ' '  screamed  the  Prophet,  his  counte- 
nance purple  with  rage  and  excitement.  "My 
children,  you  have  scoffed  at  my  power.  Shall  I 
do  with  you  as  I  have  done  with  the  great  Winne- 
mac?  Shall  I  cast  a  spell  upon  you  —  shall  I  cause 
you  to  sleep  forever  ? ' ' 

Again  he  lifted  his  hand  and  flashed  the  glitter- 
ing gem  before  their  eyes,  his  head  swaying  from 
side  to  side  in  a  serpentine  manner.  Shrieks  and 
groans  of  terror  arose  from  the  assembled  warriors. 
Some  prostrated  themselves  to  the  earth  and  pled 
for  mercy  ;  others  fled  from  the  scene  —  craven  fear 
depicted  upon  their  faces. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  it  all?"  Douglas  in- 
quired in  a  low  tone,  of  his  companion.  "Is  it  a 
clever  play  —  for  our  benefit?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Bradford  with  a  positive  shake 
of  the  head.  ' '  Tenskwatawa  possesses  some  won- 
derful power.  I  don't  know  what  it  is  —  but  I've 
felt  it." 

"And  couldn't  you  resist  it?" 

"  /  could  —  yes.  But  many  can't  —  as  you  have 
witnessed.  Hush  —  he  is  speaking. ' ' 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  117 

The  Prophet  was  saying  : 

"Arise,  my  children.  The  Great  Spirit  forgives 
you  —  /  pardon  you.  Have  no  fear;  no  harm 
shall  befall  you.  Go  and  prepare  for  your 
journey.  We  must  leave  this  sacred  spot ;  the 
white  man's  presence  has  defiled  it.  But  the  Great 
Spirit  will  go  with  us.  He  has  promised.  At  an- 
other time,  He  will  give  us  the  victory  over  our 
enemies.  The  noble  Winnemac  shall  sleep  no 
longer.  See  ! ' ' 

Tenskwatawa,  clapping  his  hands  thrice  in  quick 
succession,  cried  sharply : 

"Winnemac,  awake  —  arise  !  " 

The  Pottawatomie  suddenly  opened  his  eyes  ;  and, 
springing  to  his  feet,  gazed  wildly  around  him,  a 
bewildered  expression  upon  his  face.  little  by  lit- 
tle he  recovered  his  scattered  faculties  and  remem- 
bered where  he  was  and  what  had  happened.  A 
horrified  look  settled  on  his  countenance,  as  his 
eyes  rested  upon  the  Prophet.  He  shivered  like 
one  with  an  ague  ;  and  his  teeth  chattered. 

"The  bold  and  warlike  Winnemac  has  been 
asleep  in  the  early  morning,"  Tenskwatawa  re- 
marked sneeringly. 

"  Ugh  !  "  was  the  guttural  reply. 

Drawing  his  blanket  over  his  head  to  hide  his  face, 
the  Pottawatomie  turned  and  staggered  from  the 
spot.  The  assembled  warriors  quickly  followed  him, 
leaving  the  two  white  men  alone  with  the  Prophet. 

"Again  I  have  witnessed  the  power  of  Tensk- 
watawa," Bradford  said,  smiling  and  extending  his 


n8  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

hand  toward  the  red  hypnotist.     ' '  Surely  he  speaks 
with  the  Great  Spirit." 

Evidently  the  Prophet  understood  the  flatterer's 
purpose ;  for,  ignoring  the  extended  hand,  he  an- 
swered sternly  : 

' '  Yes ;  Tenskwatawa  speaks  with  the  Great 
Spirit.  And  the  Great  Spirit  informs  him  that  the 
young  man  at  Scar  Face's  side  must  die." 

Bradford  was  not  disconcerted.  He  returned 
coolly : 

' '  Is  Tenskwatawa  sure  he  heard  the  Great 
Spirit's  words  aright?" 

"  Tenskwatawa  heard  aright,"  was  the  haughty 
reply.  ' '  The  young  paleface  is  of  the  Seventeen 
Fires.  He  is  an  enemy  of  the  redmen.  To-day  he 
fought  against  them,  slaying  two  and  wounding 
three.  The  Great  Spirit  says  he  shall  suffer  death 
by  torture." 

"  Did  the  Great  Spirit  inform  Tenskwatawa  that 
this  young  man  —  Fleet  Foot  —  is  my  friend?  " 

' '  No.  But  is  not  Scar  Face  the  friend  of  the 
redrnen  ? ' ' 

"He  .is." 

' '  Then  how  can  an  enemy  of  the  redmen  be  the 
friend  of  Scar  Face  ? ' ' 

' '  Fleet  Foot  fought  only  to  save  his  life.  He 
was  attacked  by  twenty  braves.  I  ran  to  his 
rescue.  I  saved  his  life  and  brought  him  here. 
He  is  my  prisoner.  L,et  Tenskwatawa  enter  the 
council  lodge  and  again  talk  with  the  Great 
Spirit." 


H9 

' '  Tenskwatawa  has  no  need  to  talk  further  with 
the  Great  Spirit  nor  with  Scar  Face,"  the  Prophet 
muttered  in  a  decided  tone.  "The  young  paleface 
is  of  the  Seventeen  Fires  ;  he  fought  with  the  great 
White  Chief  —  he  must  die." 

' '  If  Fleet  Foot  meets  death  at  the  hands  of  the 
redmen,  I  meet  death  with  him,"  Bradford  said 
firmly. 

An  evil  smile  flickered  around  the  corners  of 
Tenskwatawa' s  wide  mouth,  as  he  replied  men- 
acingly : 

"  If  Scar  Face  be  so  anxious  to  meet  death,  he 
has  not  far  to  go.  I  will  call  my  children  and  give 
him  and  Fleet  Foot  as  toys,  into  their  hands." 

The  Prophet  opened  his  lips,  to  carry  his  threat 
into  execution.  As  though  understanding  the  im- 
port of  what  had  been  said,  Duke  raised  his  bristles 
and  growled  hoarsely.  Startled  by  the  sound,  the 
Prophet  recoiled  a  step.  Taking  advantage  of  his 
unguarded  attitude,  Bradford  dropped  his  gun,  and 
leaping  forward,  caught  the  Shawnee  around  the 
body  and  carried  him  into  the  council  lodge.  Doug- 
las and  Duke  quickly  followed. 

Setting  the  red  hypnotist  in  the  center  of  the 
bare  floor,  Bradford  panted  fiercely  : 

' '  You  infernal  impostor  and  scoundrel !  Your 
uncanny  power  has  no  influence  over  me.  I  am  no 
superstitious  Winnemac.  You  would  give  Fleet 
Foot  and  me  into  the  hands  of  your  red  fiends,  eh? 
Well,  you  shall  die  first !  " 

Bradford  spoke  in  the  Shawnee  tongue ;  and  the 


120  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Prophet  understood  every  word.  The  boastful 
braggart  cowered  and  trembled.  Cowardice  was 
written  in  every  lineament  of  his  features.  A 
sickly  pallor  overspread  his  face.  He  could  not 
articulate  a  sound.  He  fearfully  rolled  his  eyes 
from  side  to  side.  But  no  chance  of  escape  offered 
— no  attendants  were  at  hand. 

Turning  to  his  companion,  Bradford  asked  hur- 
riedly : 

' '  You  brought  my  gun  in  with  you  ?  ' ' 

Ross  nodded. 

"Well,  see  that  both  pieces  are  in  order.  I'll 
kill  this  miscreant — then  we'll  make  a  running 
fight  for  it.  It's  all  that  is  left  us." 

Tenskwatawa  was  shaking  like  one  with  senile 
palsy.  Bradford  drew  his  knife  and  swiftly  ad- 
vanced upon  him.  The  base  wretch  dropped  upon 
his  knees  and  supplicatingly  raised  his  hands.  He 
tried  to  speak ;  but  naught  save  the  chatter  of  his 
teeth  broke  the  stillness  of  the  big,  dark  room. 

"Die,  treacherous  devil!"  Bradford  hissed  as 
he  raised  his  arm  to  strike. 

' '  Mercy  ! ' '  Tenskwatawa  managed  to  gasp. 

"Mercy!"  sneered  Scar  Face,  still  holding  the 
knife  aloft.  "Dare  you  beg  for  mercy?  What 
mercy  have  you  ever  shown?  You  condemn  my 
friend  and  me  to  death  —  yet  ask  me  to  show  mercy 
to  you!  " 

"Mercy!"  the  craven  lips  whispered.  "Scar 
Face  and  his  friend  shall  go  free  ;  my  children  shall 
not  harm  them." 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  121 

A  husky  laugh  gurgled  in  Bradford's  throat,  as 
he  answered : 

4 '  You  are  a  fool  —  you  think  to  deceive  me.  As 
soon  as  we  are  out  of  your  presence,  you  will 
call  your  red  hounds  and  ;set  them  upon  us.  No  ! 
I  cannot  trust  you  —  your  hour  has  come.  Pre- 
pare to  meet  the  Great  Spirit  whose  name  you  have 
defamed.  You  are  a  treacherous  cur  —  and  you 
shall  die!" 

"Have  I  ever  deceived  you,  Scar  Face?"  the 
Prophet  asked  tremulously,  in  his  terror  dropping 
the  figurative  form  of  speech  to  which  he  was  ad- 
dicted, and  speaking  in  the  first  person. 

"  N-o,"  Bradford  admitted. 

' '  Nor  am  I  deceiving  you  now, ' '  the  kneeling 
savage  hastened  to  say.  "You  and  your  friend 
shall  go  free  —  none  shall  molest  you.  You  shall 
come  and  go  at  your  pleasure.  I  was  mad  to 
threaten  you ' ' 

"  Indeed,  you  were !  "  Bradford  interrupted,  drop- 
ping his  arm,  but  still  retaining  a  firm  hold  upon 
his  knife.  ' '  Now,  Tenskwatawa,  if  you  have  come 
to  your  senses,  arise  and  give  heed  to  what  I  say. 
This  is  the  second  time  you  have  pitted  yourself 
against  me  —  and  both  times  you  have  been 
worsted.  The  next  time  I  shall  not  bandy  words 
with  you.  Do  you  understand  my  meaning  ?  " 

The  Prophet,  who  had  arisen  to  his  feet,  nodded 
meekly. 

"Very  well,"  Scar  Face  continued,  "you  are 
desirous  of  wresting  your  lands  from  the  grasping 


122  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Americans.  The  British  are  your  allies.  They 
have  furnished  your  children  with  arras,  ammuni- 
tion, and  clothing.  I  am  their  agent.  Do  you  wish 
me  to  return  to  my  people  and  tell  them  you  sought 
to  take  my  life  ? ' ' 

Tenskwatawa  sullenly  but  emphatically  shook  his 
head. 

Bradford  proceeded  :  "  Had  you  caused  my  death, 
my  people  would  have  learned  the  fact.  They 
would  have  withdrawn  their  help,  and  avenged  my 
murder.  You  know  I  speak  the  truth.  You  were 
mad  to  harbor  the  thought  of  opposing  my  will. 
Your  brother — the  great  and  warlike  Tecumseh 
—  is  my  friend.  What  would  he  have  said  to 
you?" 

The  Prophet  shivered  and  was  silent.  Bradford 
hastened  to  conclude : 

' '  L<et  us  have  a  final  understanding,  then.  This 
young  man  is  my  friend ' ' 

"  Hold  !  "  testily  interrupted  Douglas,  who  had 
been  chafing  under  the  oft-repeated  assertion. 
"I'll  not  admit  that  I'm  your  friend,  to  save  my 
life,  even." 

Tenskwatawa  uttered  a  grunt  of  surprise.  But 
Scar  Face  resumed  placidly  : 

"He  is  my  friend,  although  he  denies  it.  But 
he  is  an  American  ;  and  as  an  American,  is  the 
enemy  of  the  redmen  and  their  allies,  the  English. 
This  morning  he  fought  against  us ;  he  would  fight 
against  us  again.  Therefore  we  shall  keep  him 
prisoner.  But  he  must  receive  neither  insult  nor 


THE   SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  123 

injury  at  our  hands.  Tenskwatawa,  you  have 
made  two  mistakes  within  the  last  twenty-four 
hours.  You  must  not  forget  your  promise  to  me 
—  and  thereby  make  another. ' ' 

' '  Tenskwatawa  will  not  forget  his  promise, ' '  the 
Prophet  answered  humbly. 

Bradford  approached  the  Indian  and  whispered  a 
few  words  in  his  ear.  The  latter  nodded  and 
glanced  toward  Douglas.  Then  the  two  white 
men  and  the  dog  withdrew  from  the  lodge.  When 
they  were  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  the  Prophet 
stamped  the  earth  and  tore  his  hair,  in  a  frenzy  of 
impotent  rage. 

On  reaching  the  open  air,  Bradford  turned  to 
his  companion  and  said  briskly  : 

"Wait  for  me  here.  I'll  be  gone  but  a  few 
minutes." 

And  without  tarrying  for  an  answer,  he  disap- 
peared around  the  corner  of  the  building.  On  his 
return  he  remarked  : 

"  Well,  we  have  escaped  from  our  difficulty.  It 
was  a  bold  plan  that  I  followed  —  but  the  only  one  ; 
and  it  succeeded  admirably.  But  Tenskwatawa  is 
a  weak  and  treacherous  villain,  and  will  bear  close 
watching.  His  success  in  overpowering  Winnemac 
made  him  reckless — mad." 

"Do  you  think  he'll  keep  his  promise?"  Ross 
asked. 

"Yes." 

"Then  you  are  safe;  and  I'll  return  to  the 
army. ' ' 


124  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  But  you  can't, ' '  Bradford  answered  smilingly. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  you  are  my  prisoner." 

Douglas's  anger  arose  ;  and  he  answered  hotly  : 

"  Your  prisoner  !  Hiram  Bradford,  you  saved 
my  life.  Then  I  accompanied  you  here,  that  the 
vengeance  of  the  savages  might  not  fall  upon  you 
—  that  you  might  not  suffer  for  my  escape.  You 
have  cowed  the  Prophet — you  are  safe.  I'm  go- 
ing back  to  my  friends. ' ' 

"Again  I  say —  you  cannot" 

1 '  And  again  /  say  —  why  ? ' ' 

' '  Because  you  are  my  prisoner  and  must  accom- 
pany me  whither  I'm  going.  I  have  just  given 
the  order  that  you  be  closely  watched.  Escape 
is  impossible.  Give  me  your  promise  that  you'll 
not  attempt  it. ' ' 

"I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  Douglas  cried 
angrily.  "Do  you  imagine  for  a  moment  I'll 
submit  to  your  high-handed  proceeding  ?  Do  you 
think  I'll  remain  a  captive  when  the  way  of 
escape  lies  open  ?  ' ' 

"There  zs  no  way  of  escape,  my  boy,"  was  the 
cool  reply.  "You'll  gracefully  submit  to  the  in- 
evitable. ' ' 

"Why  have  you  done  this  thing?"  demanded 
Douglas,  almost  choking  with  fury. 

"  I  ?  "  returned  Bradford  with  lifted  brows.  ' '  I 
have  done  nothing  but  save  your  life  and  look  after 
your  safety.  Your  temerity  led  you  into  the  lion's 
jaws.  They  snapped  shut  —  and  you  are  a  pris- 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  125 

oner.  And  a  prisoner  you  must  remain  for  the 
present.  If  I  permit  you  to  return  to  your  people, 
I  endanger  myself.  Besides,  you  heard  me  promise 
Tenskwatawa  that  I  would  hold  you  captive,  to 
keep  you  from  fighting  against  the  British  and  In- 
dians, in  the  war  that  is  surely  coming.  Then,  I 
have  other  reasons  for  desiring  to  keep  you  with 
me  —  reasons  I  don't  care  to  divulge  at  present. 
Come,  be  reasonable !  We  shall  be  the  best  of 
friends  yet.  I  —  I  have  learned  to  like  you,  al- 
though you  persist  in  saying  that  you  hate  me 


' '  Hate  you  ! ' '  Ross  broke  forth.  ' '  Hiram  Brad- 
ford, I  despise  you  —  I  loathe  you  !  You  shall  [pay 
for  this.  Here,  you  are  surrounded  by  hundreds  of 
murderous  savages  ready  to  do  your  bidding  —  and 
I'm  helpless.  But  I  have  friends  who  will  follow 
and  rescue  me.  Some  day  I  shall  meet  you  alone. 
Then  I'll  plunge  my  knife  into  your  black  heart 
—  and  rid  the  world  of  a  villain  !  ' ' 

"No  —  no!  You  don't  mean  what  you  say  — 
you  cannot !  "  gasped  Bradford,  his  disfigured  face 
as  pale  as  death  and  his  lips  quivering. 

But  Ross  made  no  reply.  Tossed  by  a  tempest 
of  rage,  he  whirled  and  strode  away  to  a  distant 
part  of  the  inclosure.  Bradford  silently  watched 
the  young  man  until  he  disappeared  among  the 
groups  of  savages.  Then  the  older  man  sunk  his 
chin  upon  his  breast  and  groaned  bitterly  : 

' '  He  hates  me  —  despises  me  !  God  !  How 
great  is  my  punishment !  I  love  him ;  I  would 


\ 


126 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 


gladly  shed  my  last  drop  of  blood  for  him.     And 
he  loathes  me — would  murder  me  !  " 

A  few  minutes  later,  he  was  his  cool,  collected 
self  ;  and  was  moving  from  place  to  place,  search- 
ing for  Douglas. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

IT  WAS  the  middle  of  the  forenoon.  Ross  Douglas 
stood  at  one  of  the  openings  in  the  palisade, 
moodily  watching  the  stream  of  savages  filing 
through  the  gateway  and  setting  out  upon  their 
journey  toward  Wildcat  Creek,  twenty  miles  away. 
The  sun  was  bright ;  the  air  was  light  and  warm. 
But  Ross's  heart  was  cold  and  heavy.  His  emo- 
tions were  at  war.  He  condemned  the  impetuosity 
that  had  led  him  into  such  a  trap,  and  pronounced 
himself  a  fool.  He  cursed  the  cowardice  of  the 
soldiers  who  had  neglected  to  follow  up  their  ad- 
vantage, and  had  left  him  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  Indians.  And  he  gritted  his  teeth  when  he 
thought  of  Bradford,  who  —  as  he  thought  —  had 
meanly  deceived  and  tricked  him.  Then  his 
thoughts  reverted  to  Franklinton  and  Amy  Larkin 
—  and  he  groaned  aloud. 

"  I^et's  be  moving  ;  we  have  a  long  tramp  before 
us." 

He  glanced  up  and  encountered  the  gaze  of 
Bradford. 

"What's  our  destination?  "  Ross  inquired  stiffly. 

"We  are  going  to  camp  on  Wildcat  Creek, 
twenty  miles  from  here,"  Bradford  returned  pleas- 
antly. 

(127) 


128  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

1 '  Shall  we  cover  the  whole  distance  to-day  ?  ' ' 

"Certainly." 

"It's  a  long  jaunt." 

' '  Do  you  consider  it  so  ?  "  in  evident  surprise. 

"  Yes ;  it's  a  longer  walk  than  I  feel  inclined  to 
undertake. ' ' 

' '  Aren't  you  used  to  long  journeys  afoot  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I'm  not  accustomed  to  making  them 
against  my  will." 

"  Oh  "  —  and  the  older  man  smiled.  "  Perhaps 
you'd  prefer  to  ride." 

"I'm  no  horseman." 

' '  I  can  easily  overcome  that  difficulty. ' ' 

"How?" 

"I  can  have  you  tied  on  the  animal's  back," 
was  the  frigid  reply. 

Douglas  remained  silent ;  he  was  too  angry  to 
speak. 

"Come,  now,"  Bradford  said  coaxingly. 
"There's  no  use  in  kicking  against  fate.  You're 
going  with  me  —  willingly  or  unwillingly.  I 
would  be  your  friend.  Don't  force  me  to  deal 
harshly  with  you.  You  hate  me,  I  know.  But  I 
have  your  good  at  heart,  and  I'm  your  friend,  in 
spite  of  appearances  —  in  spite  of  all  you  may  say 
or  think." 

Tears  were  in  the  speaker's  eyes,  and  his  voice  was 
trembling.  Ross  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  For 
a  half  minute  both  were  silent.  Then  the  younger 
man  said  quietly  : 

"I'm  ready." 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  129 

Side  by  side,  the  two  dropped  into  the  moving 
line  and  passed  through  the  gateway. 

For  an  hour  they  walked  onward  over  the  un- 
even ground,  neither  speaking.  Squads  of  savages 
were  on  all  sides  of  them,  all  bearing  in  a  south- 
easterly direction.  Some  were  mounted,  some 
were  afoot.  All  were  in  a  panic  to  escape  from 
the  vicinity  of  Harrison's  army.  Squaws  and 
children  bent  and  groaned  under  their  burdens, 
as  they  stumbled  along ;  but  the  haughty  war- 
riors, bearing  their  arms  only,  scorned  to  offer  them 
assistance. 

Another  hour  passed.  The  sun  had  almost 
reached  the  zenith.  The  way  was  growing 
rougher,  but  with  dogged  persistence  the  rabble 
pressed  forward. 

All  this  time  the  silence  between  Douglas  and 
his  companion  remained  unbroken.  Now  the  latter 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  former's  arm  and  said: 

' '  You  have  had  nothing  to  eat  to-day  ? ' ' 

"Nothing." 

' '  I  have  some  dried-beef.  Will  you  share  it 
with  me  ?  ' ' 

"Gladly." 

They  drew  out  of  the  line,  and  seated  themselves 
by  the  side  of  a  small  stream.  Bradford  produced 
a  quantity  of  dried-beef  and  a  horn  drinking-cup 
from  the  pouch  that  hung  at  his  side.  Silently 
they  ate  of  the  food  and  drank  of  the  water  from 
the  brook.  Duke  seated  himself  upon  his  haunches 
and  begged  for  his  share.  Ross  patted  the  hound's 
9 


130  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

head  and  tossed  him  several  strips  of  the  cured 
flesh.  Seeing  which  Bradford  remarked  : 

"You'd  better  eat  that  meat  yourself  or  save 
it  for  another  meal.  The  Indians,  in  their  haste, 
have  left  behind  nearly  all  their  supplies.  There's 
not  food  enough  among  them  to  last  twenty-four 
hours ;  and  the  chance  of  procuring  more  isn't 
good.  Don't  you  see  how  the  braves  are  scowling 
at  you  as  they  pass?  When  there's  scarcity  of 
food,  the  Indian  eats  sparingly  ;  his  dog  fasts. ' ' 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  Douglas  returned  as  he  dropped 
another  piece  of  beef  into  Duke's  capacious  mouth. 
"I'm  not  unacquainted  with  their  customs." 

"And  when  famine  threatens,"  Bradford  pur- 
sued, "  they  kill  and  eat  their  dogs." 

"  I'm  aware  of  the  fact." 

"Do  you  catch  my  meaning? " 

"I  do." 

Neither  again  spoke  for  some  moments.  Ross 
noted  that  some  of  the  Indians  that  passed  were 
munching  parched  corn  and  nibbling  pieces  of  dried- 
beef.  Others  had  no  food  at  all,  apparently. 
They  looked  gaunt  and  haggard,  but  stoically 
plodded  onward,  without  a  murmur. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  about  it?"  Bradford 
asked  suddenly. 

"About  what?  "  was  the  quiet  rejoinder. 

"You  know  what  I  mean.  Shall  I  shoot  the 
dog?" 

"  Of  course  not,"  Ross  answered  unmoved. 

"You  can  step  aside  and " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  131 

"  You're  considerate  of  my  feelings." 

"Believe  me,  it's  better  so,"  Bradford  went  on 
earnestly. 

"  It  takes  a  large  quantity  of  food  to  appease  the 
hunger  of  fifteen  hundred  human  beings.  The 
supply  is  meager.  Scarcity  is  already  here ;  abso- 
lute want  will  soon  arrive." 

"A  flattering  prospect  you  hold  out  to  your 
guest,"  Ross  remarked  dryly. 

"I'm  telling  you  the  truth,  at  any  rate.  By 
the  way,  how  much  better  off  would  you  be  with 
Governor  Harrison  ?  I  know  that  the  supplies  of 
the  army  were  almost  exhausted  two  days  ago. 
By  this  time,  the  soldiers  are  feasting  on  horse- 
flesh." 

"I  should  be  a  free  man,  at  least,"  Douglas 
interrupted  in  a  tone  ot  deep  dejection. 

Bradford  sighed  as  he  resumed  : 

' '  At  this  season  of  the  year,  game  is  scarce  in 
this  locality.  If  the  worst  comes,  the  savages  will 
kill  and  eat  all  the  horses  and  dogs  in  camp  —  your 
own  surly  brute  included." 

"  Not  until  they  have  disposed  of  me,"  Ross 
answered,  his  eyes  flashing,  his  nostrils  dilated. 

"  That's  just  what  I  fear.  The  dog  will  get  you 
into  trouble.  I^et  me  put  a  bullet  through  his 
brain." 

"The  moment  you  do,  I'll  put  one  through 
yours,"  was  the  fierce  reply.  "Let  me  hear  no 
more  on  the  subject.  That  dog  is  one  of  the  true 
and  disinterested  friends  I'm  fortunate  enough  to 


1 32  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

have.  He'd  give  his  life  for  me  —  I'd  shed  my 
blood  for  him." 

Again  Bradford  sighed  deeply;  but  he  said  no  more. 

They  arose,  shouldered  their  guns,  and  resumed 
their  toilsome  march.  Just  as  they  dropped  into 
the  moving  line  of  savages,  Tenskwatawa,  mounted 
upon  a  magnificent  black  horse, —  a  gift  of  the 
English  government, —  rode  past  them.  At  the  side 
of  the  clean-limbed  steed,  trotted  a  nimble,  sure- 
footed gray  pony  ;  and  seated  upon  its  back  was  a 
young  woman.  The  robe  of  rich  furs  that  enveloped 
her  person  neatly  concealed  the  fact  that  she  rode 
astride.  The  hood  of  her  cloak  was  thrown  back, 
and  a  cataract  of  fine  red-gold  hair  rippled  down  her 
shoulders.  Her  face  was  beautiful,  her  skin  milk- 
white  and  satiny;  and  her  eyes  were  the  violet-blue 
of  the  midsummer  skies.  The  rein  she  held  in  her 
small  shapely  hand  was  of  braided  horsehair,  orna- 
mented with  shells  and  jingling  coins ;  and  the 
housings  of  her  plump  palfrey  were  of  crimson 
cloth,  trimmed  with  a  fringe  of  gold. 

The  Prophet  sat  stiffly  erect  in  the  saddle,  looking 
neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left ;  but  not  so,  his 
fair  companion.  Douglas  and  Bradford  stepped  aside 
to  let  the  riders  pass.  As  they  did  so,  the  prisoner 
glanced  up  and  encountered  the  young  woman's  gaze 
fixed  upon  him.  He  could  not  remove  his  eyes  from 
her  face  ;  he  did  not  try  to  do  so.  Boldly  he  stared 
at  her  until  her  lids  dropped,  her  cheeks  flamed, 
and  the  faintest  hint  of  a  smile  parted  her  red  lips, 
revealing  a  row  of  even,  white  teeth.  Then  she 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  133 

shyly  peeped  at  him  from  under  her  long  lashes ; 
and  turning  aside  her  face,  rode  on. 

Ross  was  surprised  ;  excited.  He  stood  staring 
after  the  lovely  apparition — his  lips  apart,  his 
chest  heaving  —  until  Bradford,  touching  him  on 
the  arm ,  said  : 

"  What's  the  matter  —  have  you  seen  a  ghost  ?  " 

' '  An  angel,  rather, "  Douglas  replied  so  solemnly 
that  his  companion  burst  out  laughing. 

But  the  younger  man  did  not  join  in  the  cider's 
merriment.  Instead,  he  asked  impatiently  : 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  An  Indian  squaw." 

And  Bradford  continued  to  laugh  as  though 
greatly  amused. 

' '  Squaw  ! ' '  Ross  answered  in  a  tone  of  deep  dis- 
gust. "She's  no  squaw — not  a  half-breed,  even. 
She's  a  vision  of  loveliness.  If  she  be  mortal,  she's 
a  pure  Caucasian.  Who  is  she  ?  ' ' 

"  Tenskwatawa's  daughter,"  replied  Bradford, 
his  bright  eyes  twinkling  mischievously. 

"The  Prophet's  daughter  —  bah!"  was  the 
scornful  rejoinder.  "  Do  you  expect  me  to  believe  so 
transparent  a  falsehood  ?  Do  you  think  me  blind  ? 
She's  a  Caucasian,  I  tell  you.  Her  eyes,  her  com- 
plexion, her  hair —  all  indicate  the  fact." 

"You  forget  there  are  red-headed  Indians,"  Brad- 
ford suggested. 

' '  I  forget  nothing.  I  have  seen  red-haired  sav- 
ages. But  their  complexions  were  swarthy,  their 
eyes  black." 


134  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"And  I've  seen  them  fair,  with  blue  eyes  and 
auburn  hair." 

"They  were  of  mixed  blood,  then,"  Douglas  said 
positively. 
L    "Possibly." 

"  Possibly  !  You  know  they  were.  No  Indian, 
male  or  female,  pure  blood  or  cross-breed,  could  be 
as  fair  as  this  young  woman.  Her  features,  her 
manner,  her  every  characteristic  bespeaks  the  white 
blood  in  her  veins  and  stamps  her  as  a  white  woman. 
You're  trying  to  deceive  me.  Now  tell  me.  Who 
is  she  ?  " 

' '  I  have  told  you  what  Tenskwatawa  says  and 
what  his  iribe  believes.  Like  you,  he  calls  her  an 
angel,  and  tells  how  the  Great  Spirit  sent  her  to 
him." 

Again  Bradford  was  smiling,  a  peculiar,  unfath- 
omable smile. 

"  The  lying  impostor  stole  her  somewhere,"  Ross 
answered  earnestly. 

His  companion  continued  to  smile,  but  said  noth- 
ing. 

"  How  long  has  she  been  among  the  savages?" 
the  younger  man  pursued. 

"Since  her  birth,  perhaps.  How  should  I 
know." 

"  But  you  do  know." 

Again  the  older  man  was  silent. 

"  Why  do  you  refuse  to  answer  my  questions?  " 
Ross  cried  irritably. 

Once  more  that  peculiar,  fleeting  smile  elevated 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  135 

the  corners  of  Bradford's  mouth  and  accentuated 
the  puckered  scar  upon  his  cheek. 

Swiftly  the  two  strode  forward,  overtaking  and 
passing  groups  of  stragglers,  as  they  went.  De- 
scending into  the  river  valley,  they  overhauled  the 
main  body  of  savages  ;  and  with  them  crossed  the 
stream.  As  they  were  toiling  up  the  opposite  slope, 
Douglas  turned  to  his  companion  and  asked  sud- 
denly : 

"What's  her  name?" 

"The  Indians  call  her  La  Violette,"  Bradford 
answered,  as  he  gave  a  hitch  to  the  pouch  at  his 
side  and  shifted  his  gun  from  one  shoulder  to  the 
other. 

"  Ah  !  "  Ross  ejaculated. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  knowing  exclama- 
tion? "  the  older  man  inquired  sharply. 

"  Nothing  ;  only " 

"Only  what?" 

"  That's  not  an  Indian  name." 

"  No?" 

"  No,  it's  not.     It's  French." 

"Indeed?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  it  signifies?  " 

"  You  know  its  significance  as  well  as  I.  La  Vio- 
lette means  the  violet." 

"Well?" 

"  Her  name  confirms  my  belief.  She's  a  white 
woman." 

"Ah!" 


136  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  Yes.  The  appellation  refers  to  the  color  of  her 
eyes." 

' '  Do  you  think  she's  French  ?  ' ' 

"I  don't  know  —  but  you  do,  Hiram  Bradford. 
Some  person  familiar  with  the  French  language 
gave  her  the  name.  She's  a  prisoner — was  kid- 
napped when  a  child,  probably." 

"  What  a  keen  observer  and  logician  you  are," 
Bradford  chuckled  dryly. 

"I'm  no  blind  fool,  at  any  rate,"  Douglas  re- 
torted angrily. 

Then  in  an  injured,  half-pleading  tone  : 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  me  all  you  know  of  her?  " 

"  Why  should  I?"  laughed  the  other,  huskily. 
"  You're  making  your  own  observations  and  draw- 
ing your  own  conclusions.  And  no  doubt  your 
preconceived  opinions  would  remain  unshaken,  no 
matter  what  I  might  say." 

"  I  have  formed  my  opinions  from  what  you've 
told  me  and  what  I've  seen." 

"  Is  it  possible  you  give  credence  to  my  words?  " 

' '  Of  course  " —  in  a  surprised  tone.    ' '  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  know  of  no  reason  except  this  :  You  hate  me 
—  consider  me  an  enemy  —  and  doubt  my  integ- 
rity." 

Bradford  said  this  in  a  voice  thick  with  emotion. 
Ross  stopped  and  stared  hard  at  the  speaker.  He 
felt  himself  imperceptibly  drawn  toward  the  man. 
His  heart  was  gradually  softening  —  as  wax  in  a 
warm  hand.  To  relieve  his  embarrassment  and 
conceal  his  feelings,  he  returned  gruffly  : 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  137 

' '  But  you  have  told  me  the  truth  in  this  in- 
stance ?  " 

"So  far  as  I've  told  you  anything — yes.  But 
why  are  you  so  interested  in  the  Prophet's  daughter  ? 
Are  you  so  susceptible — are  you  already  smitten — 
that  you  insist  on  throwing  such  a  glamor  of  ro- 
mance around  her  ? ' ' 

"  Nonsense  !  "  Douglas  exclaimed. 

But  his  cheeks  flushed  ;  and  he  did  not  meet  his 
companion's  steady  gaze. 

"Have  a  care!"  Bradford  cried. —  And  Ross 
could  not  tell  from  his  countenance,  whether  he 
meant  his  words  in  jest  or  in  earnest. — "You  must 
not  set  your  affections  there.  The  Prophet's  an- 
gelic daughter  cannot  be  for  such  as  you — a  despised 
paleface,  a  inember  of  the  Seventeen  Fires.  Tensk- 
watawa  has  placed  her  above  all  things  earthly.  His 
followers  idolize  her — worship  her.  She  has  as 
much  influence  with  them,  almost,  as  the  Prophet 
or  Tecumseh.  Stern  chiefs  have  sighed  for  her  ; 
young  braves  have  died  for  her.  Her  smile  is  con- 
sidered a  benediction  ;  her  frown,  a  calamity.  Her 
word -is  law.  It  is  said  she  twists  Tenskwatawa 
around  her  finger  and  holds  Tecumseh  under  her 
thumb " 

' '  And  you  accuse  me  of  throwing  a  glamor  of 
romance  around  her,"  Ross  smilingly  interrupted. 

Bradford  laughed  heartily  and  continued  : 

' '  At  any  rate,  you'll  do  well  to  heed  my  warn- 
ing. I  don't  want  to  see  you  cut  into  giblets,  for 
daring  to  aspire  to  her  heart  and  hand.  Shun  her 


138  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

presence  as  you  would  shun  a  pestilence.  Tensk- 
watawa's  daughter  is  not  for  you." 

Douglas,  looking  at  the  speaker,  again  encount- 
ered that  inscrutable  smile. 

Both  remained  thoughtful  and  silent  for  some  time 
—  all  the  while  steadily  plodding  onward.  The  sun 
declined  toward  the  western  horizon.  The  surface 
of  the  country  through  which  they  were  passing 
was  seamed  with  gullies  and  ravines.  The  trail 
sprang  from  one,  only  to  tumble  headlong  into  an- 
other. Precipitous  hills  succeeded  sloping  eleva- 
tions. The  forest  grew  denser.  Just  as  the  sun 
dropped  into  the  brown  billows  of  the  prairie  beyond 
the  Wabash  and  disappeared,  the  long  line  of  weary 
and  hungry  savages  began  to  descend  into  the  valley 
of  Wildcat  Creek. 

Here  the  trail  was  narrow  and  difficult.  Douglas 
and  his  companion  were  marching  with  the  main 
body  of  Indians  —  immediately  behind  Tenskwat- 
awa  and  his  daughter.  The  shadows  gathered 
around  them  ;  the  air  grew  chill.  The  sharp  click 
of  a  hoof  upon  a  loose  stone,  or  the  guttural  excla- 
mation of  a  stumbling  brave  alone  broke  the  silence. 
Into  Ross  Douglas's  mind  came  the  thought  to  dart 
into  the  bushes,  that  bordered  the  winding  path,  arid 
attempt  to  escape.  Hurriedly  he  glanced  around 
him  —  impatiently  he  awaited  a  favorable  oppor- 
tunity. 

"Don't  think  of  such  a  thing,"  said  Bradford's 
husky  voice  in  his  ear. 

Douglas  started.     Was  it  possible  his  companion 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  139 

read  his  thoughts  ?  He  returned  in  a  tone  of  well- 
assumed  surprise  : 

"  Don't  think  of  what?  " 

"  You  have  it  in  mind  to  try  to  escape,"  was  the 
quiet  reply.  ' '  Banish  the  thought  —  the  attempt 
means  death.  Don't  you  see  the  braves  have  drawn 
close  around  us  and  are  watching  your  every  move- 
ment? " 

"  Y-e-s,"  Ross  hesitatingly  admitted.  "  At  whose 
order  has  it  been  done  ?  " 

"Mine." 

"  I  didn't  hear  you  speak." 

"It  wasn't  necessary — a  sign  was  sufficient. 
No,  you'd  be  taking  a  foolhardy  risk  to " 

The  sentence  was  cut  short  by  a  storm  of  shouts 
and  exclamations  coming  from  the  head  of  the 
column,  farther  down  the  trail.  A  pack-horse, 
stumbling,  had  fallen  from  the  narrow  path  into  a 
deep  ravine.  The  tumult  raised  by  the  savages 
frightened  several  others  of  the  beasts  of  burden  ; 
and  they  whirled  and  came  flying  back  up  the  trail. 
These  in  turn  stampeded  others  still  —  and  the 
whole  swept  the  narrow  way  like  an  avalanche. 

Ross  Douglas  heard  and  understood  all.  In  the 
panic  that  was  sure  to  ensue  he  saw  a  chance  to  es- 
cape. To  right  and  to  left  sprang  the  warriors.  Ross 
loosened  the  knife  in  his  belt,  firmly  gripped  his 
rifle,  and  was  ready  to  dart  away  in  the  darkness. 

"  Quick  !  "  shouted  Bradford.  "  Let's  scramble 
up  this  bank.  Quick  —  or  we  shall  be  trampled  to 
death  ! " 


1 40  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Grabbing  Douglas  by  the  arm,  he  sought  to  drag 
him  in  that  direction.  But  the  younger  man  held 
back.  >  The  thunderous  roar  of  the  galloping  horses 
drew  nearer.  They  turned  a  sharp  bend  in  the 
road  and  loomed  into  view.  In  the  gloom  they 
resembled  a  rapidly  approaching  thundercloud. 
Tenskwatawa's  black  steed  neighed  wildly  and, 
taking  the  bit  in  his  teeth,  whirled  and  dashed 
away.  The  gray  pony  crouched  in  its  tracks  and 
trembled.  Douglas  jerked  loose  from  his  compan- 
ion's restraining  grasp  and  leaped  toward  the  brink 
of  the  ravine  on  the  right,  intending  to  drop  into 
the  depths.  But  at  that  moment  La  Violette's  shrill 
scream  of  affright  smote  upon  his  ear.  Abandoning 
all  idea  of  escape,  forgetting  his  own  danger  — 
everything,  he  threw  down  his  gun  and  sprang  to 
her  assistance. 

"  My  God  !"  groaned  Bradford,  staggering  to- 
ward a  place  of  safety.  ' '  Both  will  be  killed  !  In 
my  excitement  I  didn't  think  of  her.  Too  late  — 
too  late!" 

Reaching  the  bank  on  the  left,  he  sank  upon 
the  ground  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

A  bound  brought  Douglas  to  the  young  woman's 
side.  It  was  the  work  of  a  moment,  to  snatch  her 
from  the  saddle  and  bear  her  limp  form  up  the 
slope.  Relieved  of  its  fair  burden,  the  terrorized 
pony  turned  and  fled  up  the  trail,  with  the  stam- 
peding pack-horses  snorting  and  panting  behind  it. 
As  they  labored  up  the  steep  grade,  with  their 
heavy  packs  still  clinging  tenaciously  to  them,  their 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  141 

terror  gradually  subsided  ;  and  near  the  top  of  the 
hill,  the  Indians  surrounded  and  caught  them. 

When  the  stampede  had  thundered  by,  Bradford 
got  upon  his  feet  and  stared  wildly  around.  In  the 
deep  gloom  he  caught  a  dim  outline  of  Douglas 
supporting  the  trembling  form  of  L,a  Violette.  Run- 
ning to  them,  he  exclaimed  in  a  voice  faltering  with 
emotion : 

"  Both  of  you  are  alive.    But  are  you  unharmed?" 

"  Unharmed  and  untouched,"  Ross  replied 
calmly. 

"Thank  God  !  "  was  the  fervent  response. 

The  young  woman  lifted  her  head  from  Douglas's 
shoulder  and,  gently  withdrawing  from  his  em- 
brace, said  tremulously : 

' '  I  sincerely  thank  you  for  rescuing  me  from 
death.  But  I  do  not  know  you.  Will  you  tell  me 
to  whom  I  owe  my  life  ?  " 

She  spoke  in  excellent  English,  but  with  a 
slightly  foreign  accent.  After  a  moment's  silence, 
Ross  answered : 

"  My  name  is  Ross  Douglas." 

' '  You  are  an  American  ? ' ' 

"I  am." 

' '  And  a  prisoner  ? ' ' 

"Yes." 

Extending  a  small,  warm  hand  —  which  Douglas 
quickly  imprisoned  in  his  broad  palm  —  she  re- 
marked naively  : 

' '  You  risked  your  life  to  rescue  me  from  danger, 
although  you  are  an  enemy  of  my  people.  I  will 


1 42  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

not  forget  your  valor.  I  will  do  what  I  can  to  pro- 
cure your  release " 

"Perhaps,  La  Violette,  you  are  not  aware  that 
your  rescuer  is  my  prisoner,"  Bradford  interjected, 
laughing. 

Petulantly  stamping  her  moccasined  foot,  she  re- 
plied proudly : 

' '  I  neither  know  nor  care  whose  prisoner  he  is. 
He  has  saved  me  from  a  horrible  death  ;  I  will  be- 
friend him." 

Then  hastily  withdrawing  her  hand  from  Ross's 
detaining  clasp : 

"  But  my  father  !     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Have  no  fear  for  Tenskwatawa's  safety,"  Brad- 
ford said  in  reassuring  tones.  ' '  His  horse  carried 
him  out  of  danger.  Ah  !  I  hear  the  sound  of  hoofs. 
He's  returning." 

The  panic-stricken  savages  were  resuming  the 
march.  Down  the  trail  came  a  body  of  braves  with 
the  runaway  pack-horses.  At  their  head  rode  the 
Prophet,  leading  his  daughter's  pony. 

' '  La  Violette  !    L,a  Violette !  "  he  called  wailingly . 

"Here,  father  —  here  I  am,"  she  answered  in  a 
clear,  bird-like  voice,  as  she  descended  to  the  trail. 

Tenskwatawa  sprang  to  the  ground  and,  enfold- 
ing her  in  his  strong  arms,  murmured  gutturally  : 

"The  Great  Spirit  is  very  kind.  He  spared  your 
life,  my  daughter." 

"Yes,  father,"  La  Violette  assented;  "but  the 
young  paleface  carried  me  out  of  the  way  of  dan- 
ger." 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  143 

"Who?  "  in  a  low,  fierce  tone. 

"  Fleet  Foot,"  Bradford  answered  from  the  dark- 
ness. 

' '  Ugh  ! ' '  the  Prophet  grunted  ungraciously. 

Then  he  quickly  lifted  the  young  woman  to  her 
saddle ;  and,  remounting  his  own  steed,  again  set 
forward.  Bradford  and  Douglas  closely  followed 
the  two.  The  young  scout  had  recovered  his  rifle, 
and  was  again  watching  for  a  chance  to  dart  away  in 
the  darkness.  But  the  Indians  were  close  about  — 
the  risk  was  too  great.  He  felt  that  in  saving  La 
Violette's  life  he  had  thrown  away  his  one  oppor- 
tunity of  regaining  his  freedom ;  and  he  tried  to 
condemn  himself  for  a  sentimental  fool.  But  when 
he  essayed  to  shape  the  thought  in  his  mind,  the 
girl's  fair  face  arose  before  him  and  rebuked  him. 

An  hour  after  darkness  had  fallen,  the  Indians 
encamped  upon  the  site  of  an  old  village.  Several 
ramshackle  huts  were  still  standing.  Two  of  these 
Tenskwatawa  appropriated  to  his  own  and  his 
daughter's  use.  Bradford  seized  upon  a  third  for 
himself  and  his  prisoner. 

Soon  huge  fires  were  blazing  along  the  banks  of 
the  stream,  effectually  dispelling  the  cold  and  dark- 
ness. The  savages  cooked  a  liberal  part  of  the  food 
they  had;  and  —  like  true  children  of  the  forest  — 
feasted  upon  it,  nor  asked  how  or  whence  more  was 
to  be  obtained. 

In  the  middle  of  the  dirt  floor  of  one  of  the  cab- 
ins standing  near  the  creek  bank  a  fire  burned 
brightly.  The  smoke  escaped  through  a  hole  in 


144  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

the  dilapidated  bark  roof.  On  opposite  sides  of  the 
pile  of  blazing  faggots  sat  Bradford  and  Douglas. 

"Are  you  sorry  you  didn't  escape  at  the  time 
of  the  stampede  ? ' '  the  former  asked  suddenly. 

"Of  course,"  returned  the  other,  without  look- 
ing up.  ' '  Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  Bradford  chuckled,  "  I  thought  perhaps 
the  fact  that  you  had  formed  the  acquaintance  of 
the  charming  I^a  Violette  —  and  had  received  her 
promise  of  aid  —  had  reconciled  you  to  captivity." 

"It's  unnecessary  to  make  answer  to  such  a 
nonsensical  supposition,"  Ross  replied  pettishly. 

Then  after  a  moment's  silence  : 

"  How  long  do  you  mean  to  keep  me  prisoner?" 

"Truly,  I  don't  know." 

"  A  few  weeks?  " 

' '  Yes  ;  or  months  —  or  years. " 

"  Humph  !  Do  you  take  me  for  a  child?  "  Ross 
cried  scornfully. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  was  the  suave  reply. 

' '  Do  you  expect  me  to  make  no  further  effort  to 
escape  ?  " 

"I  trust  you  won't." 

"Why?" 

' '  Because  it  would  be  useless  —  dangerous. ' ' 

"Useless  !  What's  to  hinder  me  from  stabbing 
you  to  the  heart,  at  this  very  moment,  and  making 
my  escape  in  the  darkness?  " 

"  Peep  out  at  the  door,"  Bradford  returned  coolly. 
' '  There's  a  better  answer  to  your  question  than  I 
can  give  you. " 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE    PROPHET  145 

Ross  acted  upon  his  companion's  suggestion,  and 
beheld  two  stalwart  braves  standing  guard,  one  on 
each  side  of  the  doorway.  Returning  to  the  fire, 
the  young  man  flung  himself  upon  the  ground  and 
maintained  a  moody  silence. 

"There  —  there!"  the  older  man  murmured 
kindly.  "  Don't  take  it  to  heart.  I  must  be  cruel 
to  be  kind.  To-day  I've  allowed  you  to  keepv 
your  arms,  thinking  you  might  need  them  to  defend 
yourself  against  the  defeated  and  maddened  Indians. 
But  that  danger  is  past.  And  now  I  must  ask  5?ou 
to  give  them  up.  Will  you  hand  them  over  quietly 
or  must  I  force  you  to  give  them  up?  " 

"Why  should  I  make  useless  resistance?"  Doug- 
las cried  passionately.  "You  have  me  in  your 
power  —  your  red  fiends  stand  ready  to  do  your 
bidding.  Take  my  arms.  But,  remember  —  you 
shall  pay  dearly  for  the  indignities  you  are  heaping 
upon  me ! " 

Hiram  Bradford  sighed  deeply  as  he  arose  and 
passed  Ross's  gun  and  knife  through  the  door,  to 
one  of  the  guards  outside.  Then,  rolling  himself  in 
his  blanket  and  hugging  his  own  rifle  to  his  breast, 
he  remarked  : 

"I'm  going  to  try  to  sleep.  You'd  better  fol- 
low my  example." 

Douglas  made  no  reply.  Duke  curled  up  at  his 
master's  side,  and  lay  blinking  at  the  red  coals.  The 
fires  gradually  burned  down;  and  slumber  and 
silence  fell  upon  the  camp. 

10 


CHAPTER   VII. 

SEVERAL  days  passed.  Ross  Douglas's  arms 
were  not  restored  to  him.  He  was  permitted 
to  wander  about  the  camp  at  will ;  but  he 
noted  that  whenever  he  approached  the  confines  of 
the  place,  two  or  more  armed  and  watchful  war- 
riors were  always  near  him.  Each  night  he  was 
closely  guarded ;  each  day  he  was  constantly 
watched.  He  evolved  one  plan  of  escape  after  an- 
other—  only  to  cast  them  aside  as  impracticable. 
He  fumed  and  fretted  —  it  did  no  good,  however. 
He  was  still  a  prisoner  —  and  doomed  to  remain 
such,  so  far  as  he  could  foresee. 

Bradford  remained  cool,  suave  —  but  inflexible  as 
steel.  He  procured  for  his  prisoner  the  best  the 
camp  afforded  ;  he  granted  him  many  privileges. 
But  all  the  while  he  maintained  a  rigid  surveillance 
over  his  every  movement.  Ross  could  not  under- 
stand the  man  or  his  motives ;  nor  could  he  ana- 
lyze his  own  feelings  toward  him.  One  moment  the 
younger  man  enjoyed  the  older's  company,  and 
chatted  pleasantly  with  him  ;  the  next  he  hated 
the  sight  of  the  scarred  face,  and  was  ready  to  leap 
upon  its  possessor  and  tear  him  limb  from  limb. 

La  Violette  kept  to  herself.  When  she  left  her 
cabin  she  did  not  mingle  with  the  savages.  An 
(146) 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  147 

aged  squaw  was  her  attendant.  More  than  once 
Ross  saw  heir  straying  up  and  down  the  bank  of  the 
stream.  But  she  took  no  notice  of  his  presence  ; 
and  he  did  not  approach  her.  Yet  at  night  he  met 
her  in  the  land  of  dreams,  and  held  converse  with 
her. 

Soon  the  small  quantity  of  food  the  Indians 
had  brought  with  them  from  the  Prophet's  Town 
was  exhausted.  Absolute  want  prevailed.  Hunt- 
ing parties  went  out  in  all  directions,  but  returned 
scantily  laden  with  game.  The  Miamis  left  for 
more  favorable  hunting-grounds ;  the  Winnebagoes 
departed  for  their  northern  homes.  But  the  Shaw- 
nees,  Pottawatomies,  Delawares,  and  others  re- 
mained. The  gaunt  wolf  of  famine  was  staring 
them  in  the  face.  Bradford's  prediction  came  true. 
The  savages  began  to  kill  and  eat  their  dogs  and 
horses.  But  Duke  and  his  master  still  had  corn- 
bread  and  venison  three  times  a  day. 

One  morning  Douglas,  accompanied  by  the  blood- 
hound, was  walking  about  the  camp.  In  front  of 
Tenskwatawa's  cabin  he  was  met  by  a  concourse  of 
braves,  in  the  midst  of  which  stalked  a  tall  and 
commanding  figure. 

' '  Tecumseh  !  "  was  the  cry  that  rose  oh  all  sides. 

It  was  the  redoubtable  chieftain.  Unheralded  he 
had  returned  from  his  southern  tour,  to  find  his 
people  defeated,  discouraged,  and  in  want.  The 
work  of  years  had  been  undone  in  an  hour.  Cohe- 
sion was  lost,  and  the  tribes  were  scattering.  To 
the  great  warrior's  mind,  his  brother's  egotism  and 


148  THE  SIGN   OF   THE  PROPHET 

precipitancy  were  to  blame  for  it  all.  He  had  just 
arrived.  His  handsome  features  were  set  and  stern  ; 
his  black  eyes,  ablaze  with  anger. 

Unheeding  the  joyful  shouts  that  greeted  him,  he 
strode  up  to  the  Prophet's  hut  and  unceremoniously 
kicked  open  the  rickety  door. 

"  Tenskwatawa,  come  forth  !  "  he  thundered. 

A  guttural  exclamation,  followed  by  the  sound  of 
shuffling  footsteps,  came  from  within.  Then  the 
Prophet,  bowing  and  smiling,  stood  in  the  door- 
way. 

"Welcome,  my  brother!"  were  his  words  of 
greeting. 

Dashing  aside  the  extended  hand,  Tecumseh  cried 
angrily : 

' '  How  dare  you  bid  me  welcome  to  this  poor 
place  —  you  who  have  disobeyed  my  orders  and  de- 
feated my  purpose ! " 

Tenskwatawa  scornfully  curled  his  lip,  as  he  re- 
plied : 

' '  My  brother,  after  a  long  absence,  returns  to  his 
people.  I  bid  him  welcome  and  extend  to  him  my 
hand.  He  rejects  it — and,  in  answer  to  my  greet- 
ing drops  angry  words.  I  fail  to  understand  his 
meaning." 

Tecumseh  drew  his  magnificent  figure  to  its  full 
height  and  keenly  eyed  the  speaker.  His  deep 
chest  heaved  spasmodically.  The  assembled  war- 
riors maintained  a  breathless  silence.  Instinctively 
they  knew  that  a  struggle  for  the  mastery  was  on 
between  the  two  Titans  of  the  Shawnee  tribe. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  149 

"You  know  well  what  I  mean!"  Tecumseh  at 
last  managed  to  articulate.  "  For  years  I  have  la- 
bored to  bring  about  a  union  of  the  tribes.  I  have 
traveled  far  —  I  have  sat  by  many  council-fires. 
You  offered  me  your  advice  and  aid.  I  accepted 
both.  I  loved  and  trusted  you.  Together  we  ac- 
complished much.  A  few  months  ago  I  went  to 
visit  our  brothers  of  the  land  of  flowers  and  sun- 
shine. They  have  promised  to  join  us  in  a  war  to 
recover  our  own.  When  I  started  on  my  journey,  I 
cautioned  you  to  do  nothing  that  would  excite  the 
suspicions  or  arouse  the  animosities  of  the  Seven- 
teen Fires.  You  promised  to  follow  my  advice  — 
to  obey  my  orders.  But  scarcely  were  my  foot- 
prints cold,  ere  you  allowed  our  young  men  to  go 
forth  to  pillage  and  murder.  You  had  certain 
knowledge  of  this  —  yet  you  winked  at  it.  The 
inevitable  happened.  I  return  to  find  my  people 
defeated  —  humiliated.  You,  Tenskwatawa  —  you 
alone  are  to  blame  for  all  !  Wag  your  deceitful 
tongue,  and  let  our  people  know  what  excuse  you 
can  fashion  1 ' ' 

The  Prophet's  repulsive  countenance  was  con- 
torted with  rage,  as  he  burst  forth  : 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  my  children.  I  have 
explained  all  to  them  ;  and  they  are  satisfied.  But 
to  you,  Tecumseh,  my  brother,  I  have  this  to  say  : 
I  have  aided  you ;  I  have  furthered  your  plans. 
You  went  away  and  left  me  to  hold  in  check  our 
restless  young  men.  They  refused  to  listen  to  my 
words.  I  could  not  control  them.  The  palefaces 


ISO  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

sent  an  army  against  us.  I  talked  with  the  Great 
Spirit.  He  promised  me  the  victory.  My  children 
went  into  the  battle.  They  fought  valiantly;  but  they 
were  overcome.  Smarting  with  defeat,  they  heaped 
reproaches  upon  me.  They  buffeted  me  and  spit 
upon  me.  I  bore  it  all.  I  showed  them  my  power 
—  I  acknowledged  my  mistake.  And  all  was  well. 
Now  you  come  to  abuse  me.  I  have  borne  much  — 
I  will  bear  no  more  ! ' ' 

Scarcely  had  the  Prophet  concluded,  when  Te- 
cumseh,  beside  himself  with  boiling  fury,  shouted: 

' '  Yes,  you  will  bear  more  —  you  will  bear  this  at 
my  hands ! " 

Springing  forward,  he  caught  his  brother  by  the 
throat  and  choked  him  until  his  brutal  face  was 
purple.  The  savages  looked  on  in  utter  amaze- 
ment ;  but  no  one  offered  to  interfere.  Tenskwat- 
awa's  tongue  protruded.  He  gurgled  and  gasped 
for  breath.  Douglas  turned  his  back  upon  the  sick- 
ening spectacle.  As  he  did  so,  his  eyes  met  those 
of  Bradford.  In  answer  to  the  younger  man's  mute 
appeal,  the  older  sadly  shook  his  head.  Ross  under- 
stood. Not  a  soul  in  the  assemblage  dared  to  brave 
Tecumseh's  mad  rage. 

Nevertheless,  there  was  one  in  the  camp  who  did 
not  stand  in  awe  of  the  great  chief.  That  person 
was  L,a  Violette.  From  her  cabin  door  she  had 
noted  Tecumseh's  arrival,  had  observed  the  meeting 
of  the  two  brothers,  and  had  witnessed  their  wordy 
epcounter  and  its  result.  Now  she  appeared  upon  the 
scene.  The  warriors  saw  her  coming  and  respect- 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  151 

fully  stepped  aside  to  let  her  pass.  With  the  speed 
and  grace  of  a  fawn,  she  ran  toward  the  spot  where 
the  Prophet  was  struggling  in  the  iron  grasp  of  his 
enraged  brother.  Her  light  feet  appeared  scarcely 
to  touch  the  groiind ;  her  unconfined  tresses 
streamed  behind  her  ;  her  violet  eyes  sparkled  with 
excitement. 

A  small  white  hand  was  laid  upon  Tecumseh's 
arm,  and  an  imperious  young  voice  commanded  : 

"  Hold,  noble  chief  !  Would  you  kill  Tenskwat- 
awa  —  the  prophet  b'f  his  people  —  my  father  !  " 

Like  one  suddenly  recalled  from  a  delirium,  Te- 
cumseh  loosened  his  hold  upon  his  brother's  throat 
aind  staggered  back  a  step.  Slowly  he  lifted  his 
eyes.  They  met  those  of  I^a  Violette  —  and  he 
stood  abashed  before  her. 

The  Prophet,  released  from  the  other's  cruel 
grasp,  sank  upon  the  ground,  shivering  and  moan- 
ing. The  purplish  hue  forsook  his  face  ;  a  deathly 
pallor  succeeded  it.  He  attempted  to  arise,  but  his 
limbs  refused  to  do  his  bidding.  His  lips  trembled. 
He  was  overcome  with  fear. 

L,a  Violette  looked  upon  the  cowering  wretch, 
and  her  face  flushed  scarlet.  Her  violet  eyes 
snapped  angrily.  Shame  —  not  pity  —  was  in  her 
voice,  as  she  cried  : 

' '  Arise,  father  1  You  are  not  badly  hurt.  Here 
—  let  me  help  you." 

Stooping,  she  assisted  the  craven  to  his  feet.  He 
stared  helplessly  around  him — and  could  hardly 
stand.  With  the  whispered  words, —  ' '  Go  and  hide 


152  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

your  weakness  I  " — La  Violette  pushed  him  into  the 
cabin.  Then  boldly  walking  up  to  Tecumseh  and 
taking  him  by  the  arm,  she  said  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  Is  it  thus  that  wise  men  settle  their  differences  ? 
For  shame  !  Follow  Tenskwatawa  —  and  come  not 
forth  until  you  have  a  message  of  good  cheer  for 
your  disheartened  people." 

Tecumseh  haughtily  straightened  his  lithe  form 
and  folded  his  arms  upon  his  chest,  as  though  about 
to  resent  her  cutting  words.  But  again  their  eyes 
met  —  and,  bowing  differentially,  he  stalked  into 
the  hut,  closing  the  door  after  him. 

La  Violette  —  like  Tecumseh  and  Tenskwatawa 
—  had  spoken  in  the  Shawnee  tongue;  but  Brad- 
ford and  Douglas,  standing  near,  had  heard  and 
understood  every  word.  Now  she  stepped  in  front 
of  the  two  white  men  and,  addressing  the  older,  de- 
manded in  English : 

' '  Scar  Face,  why  did  you  not  interfere  in  Tensk- 
watawa's  behalf  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  dare,"  Bradford  replied  truthfully. 

"Dare!"  —  tossing  her  head  contemptuously  — 
"  Are  you  not  a  man?  " 

"Yes;  but " 

"  But  a  coward?" 

Bradford's  face  colored  a  dull  red  as  he  answered  : 

"  La  Violette,  you  know  I'm  no  coward  —  what- 
ever else  I  may  be.  But  it  would  have  been  worse 
than  useless  for  me  to  interfere.  I  should  have 
incurred  Tecumseh's  lasting  displeasure  —  and 
accomplished  nothing." 


TffE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  153 

"Did  /not  accomplish  something?"  she  cried 
disdainfully.  ' '  And  are  you  not  stronger  than  I  ?  " 

"  Stronger,  yes,"  Bradford  replied  calmly.  "In 
your  weakness  lies  your  strength.  Tecumseh  and 
Tenskwatawa  grant  you  privileges  they  would 
accord  to  no  other.  You  can  safely  do  and  say 
things  for  which  another  would  be  sentenced  to 
death!" 

"Bah!  You  lack  courage  —  you  fear  death!" 
she  retorted  scornfully.  "You  are  afraid  of  the 
great  Shawnee  chief  and  his  brother,  the  Prophet. 
Yet  you  are  the  agent  of  the  English  —  sent  among 
the  tribes  to  counsel  and  guide  them.  Do  you  think 
Tecumseh  and  Tenskwatawa  have  strengthened 
their  influence  over  their  people,  by  quarreling  be- 
fore them  —  by  making  a  spectacle  of  themselves?" 

Bradford  silently  shook  his  head.  Douglas 
looked  with  wonder  and  awe  upon  the  frail,  beaut- 
eous being  before  him.  Her  face  was  alight  with 
animation  ;  her  form  quivering  with  restrained  feel- 
ing. Ross  had  seen  the  influence  she  exerted 
over  the  two  crafty  Shawnees.  A  sudden  realiza- 
tion of  wherein  lay  the  real  strength  of  the  Indian 
confederacy  flashed  upon  his  mind  ;  and  he  started 
and  changed  color. 

La  Violette  proceeded  : 

' '  Hiram  Bradford,  you  are  the  agent  of  the  Brit- 
ish. You  are  here  to  look  after  their  interests.  Are 
you  fulfilling  your  mission  when  you  allow  the  two 
great  organizers  of  the  confederacy  madly  to  tear 
down  all  they  have  built  ?  lyook  !  Look  at  the  braves 


154  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

of  the  different  tribes  talking  among  themselves.  Do 
yo'u  not  know  what  it  means?  Winnemac  is  jeal- 
ous of  Tenskwatawa ;  Stone  Eater  covets  Tecum- 
seh's  power  and  place ;  White  Loon  is  ripe  for 
revolt.  The  warriors  are  defeated,  dispirited.  They 
stand  ready  to  join  in  open  rebellion  and  follow  a 
new  leatder  —  a  new  prophet.  The  edifice  that  Te- 
cumseh  and  Tenskwatawa  have  built  is  tottering  to 
its  fall.  The  open  quarrel  between  the  two  has 
further  weakened  its  crumbling  foundation.  When 
Tecumseh  arrived  —  but  a  few  minutes  ago  —  the 
braves  greeted  him  with  shouts  of  joy.  Now  all 
are  sullen  and  silent.  Listen  !  Some  are  whisper- 
ing that  Tecumseh  is  in  the  right ;  others  are  say- 
ing that  Tenskwatawa  cannot  be  in  the  wrong.  But 
by  far  the  greater  number  are  declaring  for  a  new 
leader — and  a  new  prophet.  Are  you  blind  and 
deaf,  Scar  Face?  Have  not  the  English  made  com- 
mon cause  with  the  Indians?  Tecumseh' s  over- 
throw—  Tenskwatawa' s  downfall  —  mean  ruin  to 
the  plans  and  projects  of  your  people.  Rouse  your- 
self !  There  is  work  for  you  to  do.  All  may  yet 
be  well ;  but  the  breach  between  Tecumseh  and  the 
Prophet  must  be  closed.  Will  3?ou  come  with  me 
and  help  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,''  Bradford  answered  meekly,  an  expression 
of  great  perplexity  Upon  his  scarred  visage.  ' '  But 
what  can  I  do  ?  ' 

' '  Come.     I  will  show  you. ; ' 

Taking  him  by  the  hand,  she  led  him  into  the 
Prophet's  hut, 


155 

Like  one  in  a  trance,  Douglas  stood  staring 
at  the  closed  f  door.  He  was  dazed  —  thunder- 
struck. 

' '  Am  I  mad  or  dreaming  ? "  he  muttered  to 
himself.  "  Who  is  she  —  what  is  she  ?  So  young 
—  so  beautiful  !  I  thought  her  a  helpless  cap- 
tive ;  I  find  her  the  power  behind  the  throne.  All 
is  mystery  —  chaos.  Bradford's  an  impenetrable 
sphinx,  but  she  —  she's  an  inexplicable  riddle.  She's 
no  ignorant  savage ;  she's  an  intelligent,  edu- 
cated white  woman.  What  then?  She's  not 
Tenskwatawa's  daughter  —  that's  plain.  But  who 
is  she  ?  What  does  she  among  the  Indians  ?  Brad- 
ford, even,  bends  to  her  will.  She  regards  the  sav- 
ages as  her  people  ;  she's  hand  and  glove  with  the 
English.  Evidently  she  hates  all  Americans.  And 
she  didn't  deign  to  notice  me" — with  a  sigh  — 
"who  saved  her  life.  So  graceful  —  so  charm- 
ing ;  but  mystery  of  mysteries  !  She  has  forgotten 
her  promise  to  me  —  ah  !  " 

He  cut  short  his  whispered  soliloquy  and  quickly 
glanced  around  him.  In  little  groups  and  knots, 
the  braves  were  talking  and  gesticulating.  Down 
by  the  creek,  half-naked  children  were  paddling  in 
the  icy  water  and  shouting  and  laughing.  Three 
squaws,  bearing  bundles  of  fagots  with  which  to  re- 
plenish the  camp-fires,  passed  the  spot  where  the 
young  man  was  standing.  One  of  the  trio  —  a  bent 
and  wrinkled  hag  —  revealed  her  toothless  gums,  in 
a  sardonic  grin,  and,  pointing  to  Duke,  cackled 
hoarsely,  in  the  Delaware  language  : 


156  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

"See!  See  the  dog.  He  is  big  and  fat.  The 
sight  of  him  makes  my  mouth  water.  What  a 
stew  he  would  make  !  Why  has  he  not  been 
killed?" 

"  Come  on,"  chuckled  one  of  her  younger  com- 
panions. ' '  The  dog  belongs  to  Fleet  Foot.  Do 
you  not  see  him  standing  there  ?  I  know  him  —  he 
used  to  buy  furs  of  my  father.  But  he  is  Scar  Face's 
prisoner  now.  Come  on  !  To-night  the  dog  will 
disappear  from  his  master's  side ;  and  to-morrow 
we  shall  pick  his  bones.  My  husband  told  me.  To- 
morrow we  shall  feast. ' ' 

"And  the  paleface  —  Fleet  Foot  —  should  die, 
too, ' '  grumbled  the  third  squaw.  ' '  He  has  a  great 
appetite  —  he  eats  much.  And  there  is  no  food  to 
spare " 

Then  the  three  passed  out  of  Ross's  hearing.  He 
smiled  grimly  as  he  whispered  to  himself  : 

"So  they  would  kill  Duke  to  eat — and  kill  me 
to  keep  me  from  eating.  And  that  comely  Dela- 
ware squaw  remembers  me.  I  wonder  how  many 
others  in  the  camp  know  me  —  and  how  many 
would  befriend  me,  if  I  should  appeal  to  them.  And 
I  used  to  live  among  such  beings ;  they  were  my 
associates,  my  friends.  Bright  Wing  and  a  few 
others  alone  remain  true  to  me.  By  the  way,  I 
wonder  where  that  Wyandot  and  Joe  Farley  are. 
Are  they  grieving  over  my  strange  disappearance  ? 
How  excited  the  savages  are.  I  will  act  upon  the 
idea  that  occurred  to  me  a  little  while  ago.  Oh  !  to 
regain  my  liberty  —  to  see  Amy  once  again " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  157 

His  soliloquy  ended  in  a  long-drawn  sigh. 
Softly  whistling  to  the  hound,  he  set  off  toward 
the  upper  end  of  the  camp.  Apparently  the  In- 
dians gave  no  heed  to  him,  as  he  made  his  way 
among  them.  Soon  he  had  left  them  behind  and 
was  at  the  eastern  limit  of  the  camp  —  and  alone. 

At  this  point  a  shallow  ravine  sloped  into  the  creek 
from  the  south.  Its  bed  was  half-filled  with  logs 
and  brush,  and  its  sides  were  covered  with  a  dense 
growth  of  tall  bushes. 

On  reaching  this  natural  barrier  to  his  further 
progress,  Douglas  stopped  and  hurriedly  cast  a 
glance  behind  him.  He  was  several  hundred  yards 
from  the  nearest  group  of  savages.  What  was  to 
hinder  him  from  wriggling  through  the  tangled 
growth  that  lined  both  sides  of  the  ravine,  gaining 
the  open  forest  on  the  other  side,  and  making  his 
escape  ?  The  Indians,  busy  with  their  own  affairs, 
would  not  notice  his  absence  for  some  time — hours, 
perhaps.  True,  he  had  no  arms  with  which  to  pro- 
tect himself  from  wild  men  and  wild  beasts,  or 
with  which  to  procure  game ;  but  he  could  hide 
during  the  daytime,  travel  at  night,  and  live  upon 
bark  and  roots  until  he  reached  a  settlement.  He 
resolved  to  make  the  venture.  Hope  rose  high  in 
his  breast.  He  whirled  to  take  a  final  look  at  the 
camp.  As  he  did  so,  his  heart  sank  into  his  moc- 
casins. Unperceived  by  him,  three  warriors  had 
crept  along  under  the  shelter  of  the  creek  bank,  and 
now  stood  a  few  yards  from  him,  closely  eyeing  his 
movements  and  grinning  broadly. 


158  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Mentally  cursing  his  ill-luck,  Ross  turned  to  re- 
trace his  steps  toward  camp.  At  that  moment 
Duke  rubbed  against  his  leg  and  whined  softly. 

"What  is  it,  old  fellow?"  the  master  asked, 
stooping  and  patting  the  dog's  head. 

Again  the  hound  wThined  plaintively,  and  rolled 
his  great  eyes  toward  the  ravine  a  feet  away. 

"  Something  in  there,  eh  ?  " 

Duke  wagged  his  tail  and  capered  about.  Ross's 
heart  beat  tumultuously. 

"It  must  be  a  friend,  then,"  he  murmured 
tremulously.  "If  it  were  an  enemy  —  man  or 
beast  —  he'd  growl.  Can  it  be  possible  that 
Bright  Wing  or  Joe " 

' '  Hist ! ' '  was  the  faint  whisper  that  came  to  the 
young  man's  ears  and  interrupted  his  cogitations. 

Duke  gave  a  short,  sharp  yelp  of  joy. 

' '  Hist ! ' '  said  the  voice  again  in  the  softest 
whispered  tone.  "I  see  you,  Ross  Douglas  —  an' 
I  see  the  redskins  watchin'  you.  Me  an'  Bright 
Wing's  hid  in  the  brush  here.  Don't  look  'round, 
fer  God's  sake !  Do  you  hear  an'  understand 
me?" 

Douglas  slyly  nodded. 

"Well,"  continued  Farley's  voice,  "listen  to 
what  I'm  goin'  to  say.  We've  been  hidin'  'round 
the  camp  fef  three  'r  four  days.  We've  come  to 
rescue  you  —  but  we  can't  do  it  this  time;  you're 
too  close  watched.  Go  back  to  camp  an'  never  let 
on  you've  heerd  anything.  We  hain't  had  a  bite  to 
eat  fer  twenty-four  hours.  We've  got  to  move 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  159 

away  from  here  an'  hunt  somethin'.  To-morrer 
evenin'  at  dusk,  stray  out  here  ag'in.  Bring  a  gun 
an'  ammynition  with  you,  if  you  can.  Come  any- 
how. We'll  git  you  out  o'  y'r  scrape  'r  die  a-tryin' 

—  we  will,  by  Kizziar  !      Now  go  —  an'  tie  up  the 
dog.    He  might  come  nosin'  'round  an'  spile  every- 
thing.    You  hear  all  I  say?  " 

Again  Ross  almost  imperceptibly  nodded. 

"All  right.  Be  off  —  the  Injins  is  watchin'  you 
mighty  close  an'  suspicious-like. " 

Dropping  his  chin  upon  his  breast,  the  young 
man  walked  toward  camp,  the  bloodhound  trotting 
at  his  heels.  The  intelligent  animal  djd  not  so 
much  as  cast  a  look  behind  him.  Shouldering  their 
guns,  the  three  warriors  brought  up  the  rear. 

On  reaching  the  center  of  the  camp,  Douglas  per- 
ceived the  savages  flocking  toward  the  Prophet's 
cabin.  He  followed  them  ;  and  in  front  of  the  door 
saw  Tecumseh  and  his  companions.  The  great 
chief  was  addressing  the  multitude  : 

"  My  warriors  and  people,  I  returned  from  the 
land  of  sunshine  and  flowers,  to  find  you  defeated 
and  scattered.  In  my  anger,  I  heaped  censure  and 
abuse  upon  one  who  was  not  to  blame.  I  lost  con- 
trol of  myself  —  I  bow  my  head  in  shame  as  I 
acknowledge  it.  Tenskwatawa  has  done  well  ;  no 
one  could  have  done  better.  /  could  not  have  done 
better.  He  is  your  prophet.  You  know  his  power 

—  you  trust  him  wisely.     We  have  met  with  tem- 
porary  defeat,  but   final   success  shall  be  ours." — 
IvUsty  whoops   and   cheers. — "The   tribes   of    the 


160  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

north  and  west  are  steadfast ;  the  tribes  of  the 
south  have  promised  to  join  us.  The  Seventeen 
Fires  shall  feel  our  might.  Our  white  brothers 
across  the  big  water  will  still  aid  us.  We  shall  re- 
gain the  land  that  is  ours  ;  we  shall  repossess  the 
graves  of  our  fathers.  In  a  few  days  we  shall  re- 
move to  the  villages  of  the  Miamis,  upon  the  Mis- 
sissinewa.  There  we  will  bide  our  time  —  await  our 
opportunity.  It  will  not  be  long  in  coming.  Hun- 
dreds of  braves  will  join  us.  Their  number  will  be 
greater  than  the  leaves  of  the  forest.  The  Seven- 
teen Fires  will  tremble  at  the  tread  of  the  brave 
redmen  and  their  English  friends.  Scar  Face  —  " 
and  he  laid  his  hand  upon  Bradford's  shoulder 
—  "is  your  friend.'  He  has  advised  and  helped  us 
in  the  past ;  he  will  continue  to  do  so.  He  will  see 
that  our  brothers  across  the  big  water  send  us 
plenty  of  arms,  ammunition,  blankets,  and  food." — 
Prolonged  cheering  and  yells  of  delight. — "  I  have 
done.  Tenskwatawa,  my  brother,  whom  I  love  and 
honor"  —  he  affectionately  placed  his  arm  around 
the  Prophet's  neck  —  ' '  has  something  to  tell  you 
that  you  will  be  glad  to  hear.  Let  him  speak." 

The  grave  and  dignified  chief  waved  his  hand 
and,  drawing  his  blanket  around  him,  re-entered 
the  hut.  The  assemblage  went  wild.  Warriors 
shouted,  danced,  and  yelled ;  squaws  shrieked  and 
children  screamed.  Those  who  had  been  foremost 
in  the  contemplated  revolt  lent  their  voices  to  the 
mad  uproar.  Such  was  the  magnetic  power  of  the 
great  Tecumseh  ! 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  161 

Now  the  Prophet  stepped  forward  and  raised  his 
right  hand,  to  command  silence.  As  he  did  so,  the 
magic  circlet  upon  his  finger  caught  the  rays  of  the 
sun.  A  hush  fell  upon  his  audience,  broken  only 
by  the  breezy  whisper,  —  ' '  The  Sign  of  the  Prophet ! 
The  Sign  of  the  Prophet  !  "—Then  all  was  pro- 
found silence.  Tenskwatawa  swayed  gracefully  — 
rhythmically  —  to  and  fro,  as  he  began  : 

' '  The  past  is  gone  ;  the  present  is  before  us ;  the 
future  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Great  Spirit.  My 
children,  we  have  made  mistakes.  Now  let  us  bury 
them  forever  ;  and  with  them  our  sorrows,  our  dis- 
appointments, and  our  regrets.  If  ever  again  I 
transfer  my  power — my  sign  —  to  another,  it  will 
be  to  one  who  can  use  it.  And  you  will  obey  the 
orders  of  that  one,  as  you  would  obey  my  words. 
Hold  fast  to  what  I  say.  Listen  !  Again  I  have 
talked  with  the  Great  Spirit.  He  has  sent  me  to 
you  with  a  message  of  good  cheer.  He  allowed 
you  to  suffer  defeat  to  try  your  courage  —  to  test 
your  loyalty.  You  have  suffered  much  —  you  shall 
rejoice  more.  You  have  groaned  at  your  failure  — 
you  shall  shout  in  triumph.  You  hunger  to-day  — 
you  shall  feast  to-morrow.  Hear  what  the  Great 
Spirit  says  through  me,  his  prophet.  All  that 
Tecumseh,  my  brother,  has  told  you  is  true.  All 
that  you  desire  shall  be  yours.  You  have  been 
scorched  by  the  fire  of  death  —  you  shall  be  healed 
by  the  water  of  life.  I  am  your  father  —  you  are 
my  children.  The  Great  Spirit  has  told  me  all 
these  things. ' ' 


1 62  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

He  stopped  speaking.  A  faint  murmur  of  ap- 
probation started  with  those  immediately  in  front. 
It  grew  and  swelled  into  a  thunderous  roar  of  ap- 
plause. "The  Open  Door!  The  Open  Door!" 
they  yelled  until  their  faces  were  purple  and  their 
lips  dripped  foam.  Many  of  them  fell  to  the 
ground  and  raised  their  arms  supplicatingly.  Si- 
lencing them  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  Tensk- 
watawa  proceeded : 

"Listen,  my  children  —  and  heed  what  I  say! 
Your  acts,  your  words,  your  thoughts,  are  known 
to  the  Great  Spirit  —  and  through  him  are  known 
to  me.  You  have  cursed  your  prophet ;  you  have 
planned  to  depose  Tecumseh  and  Tenskwatawa  — 
to  choose  others  to  lead  and  advise  you.  The 
Great  Spirit  understood  all.  But  all  is  forgiven ; 
for  you  were  mad  with  defeat  and  shame." 

Again  he  paused.  Closely  he  scanned  their  faces 
for  the  effect  of  his  words.  The  stillness  of  death 
reigned  on  all  sides.  The  ringleaders  in  the  revolt 
bowed  their  heads  and  glanced  furtively  at  the 
dread  being  before  them.  Suddenly  the  Prophet's 
whole  attitude  and  manner  changed.  Every  sinu- 
osity of  his  graceful  body  became  a  hard,  straight 
line.  Rigidly  erect,  his  brows  lowering,  his  face 
contorted,  his  one  sinister  eye  flashing  —  he  was  an 
avenging  demon. 

' '  Listen  !  "  he  shouted  in  thunder  tones.  ' '  My 
children,  you  have  displeased  the  Great  Spirit. 
Another  word  —  another  thought  —  of  the  kind, 
and  he  will  desert  your  cause  and  ally  himself  with 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  163 

the  Seventeen  Fires.  If  there  be  one  among  you 
that  doubts  my  words,  let  him  stand  forth  ;  and 
through  the  power  the  Great  Spirit  has  bestowed 
upon  me,  I  will  slay  him  with  a  look.  With  a 
motion  of  my  hand  I  can  smite  you  blind.  Do  you 
still  doubt  ?  You  have  seen  what  I  did  with  the 
noble  Winnemac.  Is  not  White  Loon  as  brave  and 
strong?  Is  not  Stone  Eater  as  valiant  and  bold? 
Look  then  !  " 

Again  he  was  the  bending,  swaying,  sinuous 
hypnotist.  The  glittering  talisman  upon  his  finger 
shot  its  light  into  the  eyes  of  the  two  chiefs.  Like 
charmed  birds  they  fluttered  and  tried  to  free  them- 
selves from  its  spell.  Their  frantic  efforts  were 
vain.  Then  they  became  stiff  —  motionless,  seeing 
nothing  but  the  magic  ring,  hearing  nothing  but 
the  Prophet's  voice. 

"Come!  "  he  cried. 

In  straight  lines  the  two  chiefs  advanced. 

Bradford  paled  slightly.  La  Violette  turned  aside 
her  face.  Ross  Douglas  had  his  eyes  fastened  upon 
the  glittering  jewel.  Slowly  he  began  to  move  for- 
ward. Many  others  were  coming  under  the  hyp- 
notic influence  —  were  approaching  Tenskwatawa. 
The  young  American  shook  himself,  dropped  his 
eyes  to  earth  —  and  retreated  to  a  safe  distance. 

"Stop!" 

Like  automatons  the  chiefs  obeyed. 

"You  see  nothing  —  you  are  blind  !  " 

Tenskwatawa' s  voice  rang  out  clear  and  cold. 
Scores  of  the  savages  clapped  their  hands  to  their 


1 64  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

eyes  and  groaned  aloud.  Stone  Eater  and  White 
Ix>on  uttered  piercing  wails. 

' '  You  are  helpless  —  you  drop  to  the  ground  — 
you  sleep  ! ' ' 

Down  they  fell  like  tenpins — the  two  chiefs  at 
the  Prophet's  feet. 

"Behold  the  work  of  the  Great  Spirit!"  he 
shouted  triumphantly.  "  Now  who  doubts  Tensk- 
watawa's  power?  " 

A  full  minute  he  waited  for  a  reply.  Awe  — 
consternation  —  were  written  upon  the  faces  of  those 
who  had  not  come  under  his  influence.  At  last  he 
clapped  his  hands  and  cried  shrilly  : 

' '  Awake  —  arise  !     Live  and  see  !  ' ' 

Those  upon  the  ground  tumbled  over  one  another, 
in  their  efforts  to  get  upon  their  feet.  Rubbing 
their  eyes,  they  stared  stupidly  around.  Then,  in 
a  shame- faced  manner,  they  silently  slunk  away  from 
the  presence  of  the  red  hypnotist,  who,  dropping  his 
voice  to  a  sing-song  monotone,  continued  : 

' '  Yes,  my  children,  all  will  be  well.  Your  chief, 
the  great  and  powerful  Tecumseh,  has  spoken 
words  of  truth  and  wisdom.  Do  not  despair ;  be 
steadfast  to  our  cause.  The  Great  Spirit  is  with  us 
— and  all  will  be  well.  He  has  promised.  In  a 
few  days,  at  most,  we  will  go  to  the  Mississinewa. 
Our  white  brothers  across  the  lakes  and  beyond  the 
big  water  will  send  us  supplies.  Also,  we  will 
make  our  enemy  —  the  Seventeen  Fires  —  furnish 
us  with  salt  and  ammunition.  All  will  be  well. 
The  Great  Spirit,  through  his  prophet,  has  spoken. ' ' 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  165 

Tenskwatawa  rejoined  Tecumseh  within  the 
hut ;  L/a.  Violette  returned  to  her  own  cabin.  The 
Indians  cheered  and  capered  about  in  an  ecstasy  of 
delight.  This  lasted  for  several  minutes.  Then 
they  quietly  dispersed  and  commenced  the  prepara- 
tion of  their  dinners.  All  thought  of  rebelling 
against  the  rule  of  the  self -elected  chief  and  self- 
appointed  prophet  was  at  an  end.  The  kingly 
presence  and  sturdy  eloquence  of  the  one,  coupled 
with  the  serpentine  grace  and  mesmeric  power  of 
the  other,  had  the  desired  effect  upon  the  minds 
of  the  ignorant  and  superstitious  redmen.  The 
threatened  revolt  was  at  an  end. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  Tecumseh?"  re- 
marked Bradford,  as  he  approached  the  spot  where 
Douglas  was  standing. 

' '  He's  every  inch  a  warrior, ' '  Ross  replied 
quietly. 

1  'And  every  inch  a  man, ' '  was  the  quick  rejoinder. 

"But  a  savage,  still." 

' '  Yes.  But  a  savage  whose  valor  is  equaled  by 
his  honor,  whose  thirst  for  fame  and  power  is  tem- 
pered by  his  sense  of  right  and  justice.  He  has 
the  good  of  his  people  at  heart ;  he  believes  their 
cause  is  just " 

"  Can  you  say  as  much  for  the  English,  who  are 
urging  the  Indians  to  take  up  the  hatchet  against 
the  Americans?"  Douglas  interrupted.  "Have 
they  the  good  of  the  savages  at  heart  ? ' ' 

Bradford  laughed  a  forced,  uneasy  laugh  as  he 
answered  : 


1 66  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  Please  don't  interrupt  me  with  ill-timed  ques- 
tions. That's  a  matter  of  national  ethics  —  a 
problem  that  you  and  I  cannot  grasp  or  solve.  It 
would  be  useless  for  us  to  discuss  it.  We  look  at 
it  from  different  standpoints.  You're  an  Ameri- 
can;  I'm  an " 

"American,  also,"  Ross  interjected. 

The  older  man  sharply  eyed  his  companion  for  a 
half  minute.  Then  he  said  slowly : 

"You're  a  keen  and  intuitive  observer.  By 
birth  I  am  an  American  ;  but  I'm  in  the  service  of 
the  British,  and  bound  to  do  their  will.  To  return 
to  Tecumseh,  he's  the  noblest  Indian  I've  ever 
met.  He  is  the  soul  of  honor — the  personification 
of-  manly  courage.  His  word  is  as  good  as  his 
bond.  His  people  trust  him,  love  him.  Had  he 
been  at  the  Prophet's  Town  there  would  have  been 
no  battle.  He  wished  to  avoid  a  conflict  until  he 
was  ready  for  it.  But  a  general  Indian  war  is  com- 
ing—  inevitably.  The  Americans  will  be  arrayed 
on  one  side  ;  the  Indians  and  British  on  the  other. 
The  Americans  will  fight  to  hold  what  they  have 
gained  ;  the  savages,  to  regain  what  they  have  lost  ; 
the  English,  to  add  to  their  territory.  You  have 
learned  much  since  you've  been  a  prisoner.  It 
wouldn't  do  to  have  you  escape  and  return  to  your 
people.  A  captive  you  must  remain. ' ' 

Bradford  ceased  speaking,  but  Douglas  offered  no 
word  in  reply.  The  former  resumed  : 

"  Tenskwatawa,  also,  is  a  wonderful  man.  He's 
eloquent,  cunning,  forceful." 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  167 

"He's  a  cowardly  scoundrel!"  Ross  said 
savagely. 

"Yes,"  Bradford  admitted,  "he's  a  cowaid.  I 
don't  admire  him.  He's  a  hypocritical  knave. 
But  he's  devoted  to  La  Violette,  and  you  can't 
deny  that  he's  shrewd  and  eloquent." 

"No." 

' '  Nor  can  you  explain  the  power  he  exercises 
over  his  people. ' ' 

Ross  shook  his  head. 

' '  It's  something  wonderful,  startling,  uncanny. 
The  more  I  see  of  it,  the  more  I'm  puzzled.  I 
have  felt  it " 

"And  I." 

"You?" 

"Yes." 

"When?" 

"To-day." 

' '  Ah  !     And  yet  you  cannot  understand  it  ?  " 

"No." 

"  It  is  strange  —  very,"  Bradford  remarked  mus- 
ingly. "He  says  he  receives  his  power  from  the 
Great  Spirit.  I'm  not  a  believer  in  miracles  ;  yet, 
for  all  I  know,  he  tells  the  truth.  But  he  has  the 
power  —  there's  no  gainsaying  that.  You  didn't 
come  completely  under  his  influence?" 

"No;  but  I  should  have  done  so  if  I  hadn't 
exerted  all  my  will-power  and  removed  my  eyes 
from  the  talisman  —  his  sign." 

"I  understand.  Well,  I'm  hungry.  Let's 
hunt  something  to  eat. ' ' 


1 68  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  Where  did  he  obtain  the  ring?" 

"  I  don't  know.  He  has  had  it  for  years.  Come 
on." 

Together  the  two  sauntered  away  from  the 
vicinity  of  the  Prophet's  cabin. 

The  day  passed  quietly.  Several  hunting-parties 
returned  to  camp,  laden  with  game.  The  savages 
had  an  abundance  of  meat  for  supper  and  retired  to 
rest  at  an  early  hour.  Bradford  and  Douglas 
stretched  upon  the  earthen  floor  of  their  hut  and 
fell  asleep.  Duke  occupied  his  usual  place.  At 
the  door,  stood  the  two  copper-colored  guards. 
About  midnight  Bradford  was  aroused  by  the 
sound  of  voices  outside.  He  arose,  softly  opened 
the  door,  and  stepped  out  into  the  darkness.  It 
was  raining  steadily.  The  two  guards  were 
parleying  with  a  company  of  braves  who  de- 
manded that  the  hound  be  brought  out  and  given 
to  them. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  Bradford  asked 
sharply. 

The  leader  advanced  and  answered  shortly  : 

"The  big  dog." 

"  Who  sent  you?  " 

"  Lone  Jack,  the  Delaware  chief." 

' '  Well,  go  back  to  Lone  Jack  and  tell  him  I  said 
to  come  himself  —  that  I  will  give  him  a  taste 
of  powder-and-ball  instead  of  dog-meat.  Be  off  !  " 

Grumbling  and  snarling,  the  braves  disappeared 
in  the  darkness ;  and  Scar  Face  re-entered  the 
cabin. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  169 

At  that  moment  Douglas  stirred  uneasily  and 
murmured  : 

1 '  Joe  and  Bright  Wing  —  come  —  rescue " 

Bradford  raised  his  head  and  listened  attentively. 
Ross's  lips  were  moving,  but  the  words  were  so 
softly  spoken  that  the  listener  could  not  catch 
them. 

"Poor  fellow!"  the  older  man  whispered  pity- 
ingly. "  He's  dreaming  of  rescue.  How  sweet  is 
freedom.  Well  —  well,  the  whole  of  life  is  but  a 
dream  —  a  miserable  nightmare ' ' 

' '  At  the  ravine  —  to-morrow  evening, ' '  Ross 
mumbled. 

Then  he  sighed  deeply,  changed  his  position — 
breathing  heavily  —  and  again  slept  soundly. 

Bradford  started  and  sat  erect. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  muttered,  shaking  his  head.  "There 
may  be  something  in  that  dream  —  more  than  I 
thought.  At  the  ravine  —  to-morrow  evening. 
What  can  that  mean?  I  must  investigate.  Per- 
haps his  friends  are  near  —  and  he  has  met  them  at 
the  ravine  above  here.  What  more  likely  ?  Fore- 
warned is  forearmed." 

And,  smiling  grimly,  he  replenished  the  fire, 
rolled  himself  in  his  blanket  —  and  was  soon  sound 
asleep. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

STEADILY,  monotonously,  the  rain  poured  down 
all  night  long.     The  morning  dawned  cheer- 
less and  murky.     The  earth  was  sodden  ;  every 
rivulet  was  swollen ;  and  the  creek  was  bank  full. 
A  dense  fog  rose  from  the  water-courses  and  spread 
itself  over  the  land.     The  feeble  rays  of  the  winter 
sun   could   not   penetrate  it ;  and   at   midday   the 
depths  of  the  forest  were  gloomy  and  oppressive. 

The  savages  huddled  together  in  their  mean 
hovels  and  silently  watched  the  dreary  downpour. 
Nothing  broke  the  stillness,  save  the  steady  drip  of 
the  rain  and  the  rumbling  roar  of  the  fast  hurrying 
streams.  All  the  fuel  was  wet,  and  the  fires  burned 
dismally.  It  was  a  wearying,  soul-trying  day. 

Douglas  and  Bradford  sat  by  the  fire  that  smold- 
ered in  the  middle  of  the  floor  of  the  miserable  hut 
they  occupied.  Occasionally,  one  or  the  other  arose 
and  peeped  out  at  the  pouring  rain.  But  the  scene 
was  too  depressing  ;  and,  shivering,  he  returned  to 
the  fire.  The  pungent  smoke  refused  to  find  its 
way  out  at  the  hole  in  the  bark  roof,  but  swirled 
and  eddied  about  the  interior  and  added  to  the  gen- 
eral discomfort. 

Neither  man  was  in  a  talkative  mood.     Hour 
after   hour,  they  sat  staring  into  the  ash-masked 
embers,  each  busy  with  his  own  thoughts. 
(170) 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  171 

As  the  day  advanced,  Ross's  apathy  left  him. 
He  grew  strangely  restless,  and  like  a  caged  animal 
paced  from  one  end  of  the  cabin  to  the  other. 
Bradford  noted  his  companion's  changed  mood,  but 
said  nothing.  By  four  o'clock  it  was  growing 
dusk.  Douglas  suddenly  picked  up  his  hat  and 
started  for  the  door. 

' '  Where  are  you  going  ? ' '  Bradford  inquired. 

"  For  a  walk,"  was  the  non-committal  reply. 

Duke  arose,  stretched  himself,  yawned,  and 
rubbed  against  his  master's  legs. 

"Surely  you're  not  going  out  in  such  a  rain," 
Bradford  remarked.  "You'll  get  wet  to  the 
skin." 

"  What's  a  little  rain  to  a  man  who  has  spent 
his  days  in  the  open  air,"  Douglas  returned 
quickly,  still  moving  toward  the  doorway. 

"Wait!" 

And  Bradford  sprang  to  his  feet  and  placed  him- 
self in  front  of  the  other,  his  broad  back  against 
the  closed  door. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Ross  cried,  drawing 
himself  up  stiffly. 

It  was  a  strange  scene.  The  flickering  firelight 
alone  lighted  the  black  interior  and  outlined  the 
forms  and  faces  of  the  two  men.  The  bloodhound 
stood  looking  from  one  to  the  other.  Outside,  the 
rain  fell  and  the  wind  soughed  fitfully. 

"I  mean  that  you're  not  going  out  to-night," 
Bradford  answered  firmly. 

Douglas's  temper  was  rising. 


172  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"You  dare  to  say  that  I  shan't  go  out  to- 
night, if  I  choose?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  that's  what  I  mean." 

"  And  you  think  I'll  submit?" 

"  You  must  —  you  can't  help  yourself." 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen." 

"Oh  I" 

"Yes." 

They  stood  glaring  at  each  other,  like  brutes  at 
bay.  The  older  man  was  cool  and  collected  ;  the 
younger,  angry  and  excited.  Each  was  striving  to 
stare  the  other  out  of  countenance  ;  but  neither 
shrank  from  the  ordeal. 

' '  Stand  aside  ! ' '  Ross  cried  chokingly. 

"I  will  not." 

' '  The  consequences  be  upon  your  own  head, 
then!" 

Scarcely  were  the  words  out  of  his  mouth,  ere 
Douglas  leaped  forward  and  grappled  with  his 
antagonist.  Around  and  around  the  small,  dark 
room  they  whirled,  each  striving  to  trip  and  throw 
the  other.  Douglas  was  the  stronger,  the  more 
active;  Scar  Face,  the  cooler,  the  more  skillful. 
They  were  evenly  matched. 

Duke  snarled  viciously,  and  ran  around  the 
two  combatants,  seeking  an  opportunity  to  leap 
at  Bradford's  throat.  Both  men  were  breathing 
heavily.  The  terrific  exercise  and  excessive  strain 
were  telling  upon  them.  But  the  younger  man's 
wind  was  the  better  —  was  in  his  favor.  Besides, 
each  moment  he  was  growing  cooler,  more  deter- 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  173 

mined,  while  his  antagonist,  seeing  defeat  star- 
ing him  in  the  face,  was  losing  his  presence  of 
mind. 

Of  a  sudden,  Douglas  swung  Bradford  clear  of 
the  ground,  and  with  stunning  force  dashed  him 
against  the  log  wall.  Scar  Face's  hold  relaxed, 
and  he  dropped  to  the  floor,  senseless.  In  a  moment 
the  dog  was  upon  the  helpless  man,  and  would 
have  buried  his  fangs  in  the  throbbing  throat,  had 
not  Ross  panted : 

"  Down,  Duke  ;  out  of  the  way  !  " 

The  hound  sullenly  obeyed,  growling  fiercely. 
Douglas  leaned  against  the  wall  and  breathed  hard 
for  some  seconds.  Then  he  stooped  and  carefully 
examined  his  fallen  foe. 

"He's  only  stunned;  thank  God  I  didn't  have 
to  kill  him  !  "  he  ejaculated. 

Then,  taking  a  bundle  of  thongs  from  a  peg  upon 
the  wall,  he  proceeded  to  bind  the  prostrate  man, 
hand  and  foot.  When  he  had  finished,  he  secured 
the  other's  gun,  ammunition,  and  knife,  and  calling 
to  the  dog  left  the  hut,  noiselessly  closing  the  door 
behind  him. 

By  this  time  it  was  quite  dark.  Along  the  creek 
bank,  the  camp-fires  twinkled  like  watchful  eyes. 
With  long,  sturdy  strides,  Douglas  set  off  toward 
the  ravine  up  the  stream.  The  smell  of  the  heavy 
fog  was  in  his  nostrils ;  the  booming  roar  of  the 
turbulent  creek  in  his  ears.  He  met  or  saw  no 
one.  He  left  the  camp  behind,  and  neared  the  spot 
where  he  expected  to  meet  his  friends. 


174  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Suddenly  he  stopped  and  whistled  softly.  No 
reply.  He  drew  nearer  to  the  ravine,  and  again  he 
whistled.  Still  no  reply.  The  bloodhound  whined 
and  impatiently  scratched  the  soft,  wet  earth. 

"Find  them,  Duke,"  Ross  commanded. 

The  dog  ran  forward  and  disappeared  in  the 
bushes. 

Douglas  awaited  the  outcome  of  his  experiment. 
Presently  he  heard  an  eerie-like  whisper  : 

' '  Come  right  straight  ahead,  Ross  Douglas. 
Crawl  into  the  bushes,  an'  be  mighty  still  while 
you're  doin'  it." 

It  was  Farley's  voice.  Douglas  obeyed  the 
words.  Dropping  upon  hands  and  knees,  he 
wormed  his  way  through  the  thick  copse  of  wet 
bushes,  for  some  yards.  Suddenly  a  hand  was 
clapped  upon  his  shoulder,  and  these  whispered 
words  fell  upon  his  ear  : 

"Drop  down  an'  keep  still.  The  Injins  is  all 
'round  us.  They've  got  onto  our  game,  some  way, 
an'  have  been  huntin'  fer  our  hidin' -place  ever 
sence  the  middle  o'  the  afternoon.  Me  an'  Bright 
Wing's  laid  here  fer  twelve  mortal  hours,  without  a 
bite  to  eat.  How  the  redskins  got  onto  our  scheme 
is  more  'n  I  can  tell;  but  they've  done  it.  Have  you 
got  a  gun  with  you,  Ross?  " 

' '  Yes, ' '  was  the  cautious  reply. 

"All  right.  We  didn't  dare  to  answer  y'r 
whistle,  fer  fear  the  Injins  might  hear  us.  They 
was  mighty  close  right  then.  That  dog  o'  yours' s 
got  a  heap  o'  sense  —  he  has,  by  ginger  !  'He  jest 


THE  SIGN  OF    THE  PROPHET  175 

nosed  'round  us  an'  never  barked  n'r  nothin'. 
Wher'  are  you,  Bright  Wing?" 

"Me  here,"  came  from  the  depths  of  the  Wyan- 
dot's  chest. 

"Well,  lead  off,  an'  we'll  foller  you.  This  is  a 
ticklish  business,  'r  my  name  ain't  Joe  Farley ! 
Ross,  y'r  dog  was  goin'  back  to  you,  but  I  c'ncluded 
I'd  best  risk  callin'  you.  Go  ahead,  Injin,  we're 
right  at  y'r  heels." 

' '  Ugh  ! ' '  was  the  guttural  response  from  the 
blackness. 

To  the  bottom  of  the  ravine  they  stealthily  de- 
scended ;  crept  through  the  water  and  mud  of  its 
bed ;  and  ascended  the  opposite  bank.  Bright 
Wing  led  the  way ;  Duke  brought  up  the  rear. 
Reaching  the  open  wood,  they  arose  to  their  feet 
and  silently  threaded  their  way  through  the  intri- 
cate mazes  of  the  black  forest. 

They  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance,  how- 
ever, when  Bright  Wing  dropped  to  the  ground 
and  lay  motionless.  The  others  followed  his  ex- 
ample. Duke  growled  menacingly,  and  ere  his 
master  could  lay  a  restraining  hand  upon  him, 
darted  into  the  wall  of  blackness  ahead.  To  the 
ears  of  the  three  comrades  came  a  sharp  exclama- 
tion, followed  by  the  sounds  of  a  tussle.  Then  all 
was  silent. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  those  sounds?"  Ross 
inquired  softly  of  Farley. 

"Don't  know,"  was  the  reply  in  the  same  cau- 
tious undertone. 


176  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"S'pect  thepurp  got  hold  of  a  redskin's  guzzle, 
an'  shut  his  wind  off  so  quick  he  couldn't " 

' '  Ugh !  Duke  him  bite  bad  Shawnee  much  hard, n 
the  Wyandot  volunteered.  ' '  Here  Duke  him  is 
now.  Come." 

The  dog  trotted  back  to  his  place  and,  panting, 
threw  himself  upon  the  ground.  Again  they  moved 
onward,  creeping  along  inch  by  inch  and  pausing 
frequently  to  listen.  In  this  manner  they  covered 
quite  a  distance.  They  had  arisen  to  their  feet, 
and  were  congratulating  themselves  that  they  had 
eluded  the  vigilance  of  their  watchful  foes,  when 
the  patter  of  moccasined  feet  sounded  on  all  sides  of 
them.  They  were  surrounded. 

A  short  and  sharp  conflict  in  the  intense  dark- 
ness ensued.  Rifles  were  discharged  and  blows 
were  struck  at  random.  Then  the  three  comrades 
found  themselves  beyond  the  line  of  their  enemies, 
and  blindly  dashed  away  in  the  impenetrable  black- 
ness. 

For  some  time  they  continued  their  mad  flight, 
through  thickets  and  over  fallen  logs,  stumbling, 
falling,  scrambling  to  their  feet  and  running  on. 
At  last  they  paused  momentarily  to  listen.  All 
sounds  of  pursuit  had  died  out.  Naught  was  to 
be  heard  but  the  patter  of  the  raindrops  upon  the 
dead  leaves  and  the  boom  of  the  creek  near  at 
hand. 

"We  have  distanced  them,"  Douglas  panted. 

"Yes,"  Farley  gasped  in  reply.  "  But  it  was  a 
mighty  close  shave.  Is  either  o'  you  fellers  hurt  ?  " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  177 

"I'm  not,"  Ross  replied. 

"  Me  no  hurt,"  Bright  Wing  grunted.  "Where 
dog  Duke?" 

"  Here  at  my  side,"  Douglas  answered. 

"  I  guess  I'm  the  only  critter  that  got  a  scratch," 
Joe  grumbled.  "I  alluz  was  an  unlucky  mortal. 
One  o'  them  red  devils  has  raised  a  strawberry  on 
my  cheek,  as  big's  a  walnut.  He  must  'ave 
struck  me  with  the  butt  of  his  hatchet.  I'm  much 
obleeged  to  him  that  he  didn't  use  the  blade.  I'd 
'ave  needed  a  surgeon,  I  would,  by  Polly  Ann ! 
Seemin'ly  the  cusses  didn't  want  to  kill  us  ;  they 
didn't  fire  a  gun.  Wanted  to  take  us  alive,  I 
reckon.  But  our  charge  was  too  much  fer  'em. 
But  we  want  to  reload  our  rifles,  an'  git  out  o'  here. 
They'll  git  torches  an'  be  hot  on  our  trail  'fore  a 
half  hour,  'r  I  miss  my  guess.  Gol-fer-socks  ! 
But  I'm  hungry.  I  could  eat  hoss-meat  now  an' 
relish  it.  Say,  fellers,  which  way  do  we  want  to 
steer?" 

"It  makes  little  difference,"  Ross  answered  im- 
patiently. ' '  Any  direction  that  will  carry  us  from 
this  vicinity  is  good  enough  for  me." 

"That  won't  do,"  Joe  said  firmly.  "We've  got 
to  do  one  o'  two  'r  three  things  :  steer  fer  Fort  Har- 
rison on  the  Wabash,  Fort  Defiance  on  the  Maumee, 
'r  make  a  break  'cross  the  country  fer  Franklinton 
on  the  Scioto.  The  question  is  which  way  '11  we 
go.  What  do  you  say,  Injin?" 

"  Me  say  go  toward  rising  sun  ;  go  toward  home," 
Bright  Wing  answered  promptly. 

12 


178  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

1 '  What  do  you  say,  Ross  ? ' ' 

"I'm  willing  to  abide  by  Bright  Wing's  deci- 
sion. But  let's  be  off." 

"  All  right,"  returned  Joe.  "We've  got  to  ford 
the  creek  then,  an'  keep  bearin'  east.  We  want  to 
strike  through  by  Greenville  an'  Fort  Recovery. 
Come  on.  I^e's  git  out  o'  here,  an'  find  a  place 
where  we  can  cook  some  meat.  The  Injin's  got 
some  in  his  pouch.  I'm  jest  'bout  starved,  I  am, 
by  cracky  !  In j in,  take  the  lead." 

All  night  they  pressed  forward,  bearing  toward 
the  northeast.  At  daylight  they  went  into  camp 
upon  a  rocky  elevation,  and,  after  kindling  a  fire 
and  cooking  and  eating  a  quantity  of  venison, 
stretched  themselves  upon  the  damp  ground  and 
fell  asleep. 

While  they  are  snatching  a  few  hours  of  repose, 
let  us  go  back  to  the  Indian  camp  upon  Wildcat 
Creek. 

Fifteen  minutes  after  Douglas's  departure,  Brad- 
ford regained  consciousness.  At  first  he  lay  and 
stared  vacantly  around  him.  Then  a  keen  remem- 
brance of  all  that  had  occurred  came  to  him,  and 
he  attempted  to  arise.  He  tugged  at  his  bonds ; 
half  arose  to  a  sitting  posture  ;  and  fell  back  helpless. 

' '  Overpowered,  but  not  outwitted  ! "  he  muttered, 
rolling  his  aching  head.  "  The  Indians  are  on  the 
qui  vive,  and  will  recapture  him.  Also,  they  will 
take  his  venturesome  comrades  prisoners.  I  hope 
they'll  not  hurt  either  of  the  three. 


THE  'SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  179 

"  How  long  have  I  lain  here?  I  must  have  re- 
ceived a  severe  blow ;  I'm  dizzy,  and  my  head 
aches.  It's  a  wonder  he  didn't  kill  me  while  he 
had  the  chance.  Perhaps  he  doesn't  hate  me  as 
he  did.  God  grant  that  it  may  be  so  !  Of  course 
he  has  taken  my  arms  with  him.  Well,  I  can't 
blame  him ;  I  robbed  him  of  his  own.  I  was  a  fool 
to  send  away  the  two  guards.  I  should  have  kept 
them  at  hand  day  and  night.  Why  don't  the 
redskins  come ;  what  can  be  the  cause  of  their 
delay  ?  " 

Again  he  essayed  to  arise,  and  again  fell  back 
with  a  groan.  The  fire  had  burned  down  ;  the  room 
was  in  darkness.  No  sound  came  to  his  ears,  but 
the  patter  of  the  rain  upon  the  bark  roof,  the  fitful 
sough  of  the  wind,  and  the  sullen  boom  of  the  rush- 
ing stream.  A  half  hour  passed.  He  strained  at 
the  thongs  that  bound  his  limbs,  but  accomplished 
nothing. 

' '  Curse  the  luck  !  "  he  cried  angrily.  ' '  Why 
don't  the  red  hounds  put  in  an  appearance  ?  Can  it 
be  possible  he  has  escaped  them  ?  How  strong  and 
active  he  is.  He  was  too  much  for  me,  with  all  my 
skill  as  a  wrestler.  Mercy,  how  my  head  aches  ! 
And  how  manly  and  brave  he  is  ;  a  young  man  of 
whom  any  father  might  be  proud  !  But  he  hates 
me  —  hates  me  !  In  the  name  of  all  the  fiends, 
must  I  lie  here  helpless  while  he  makes  his  escape  ? 
I  shall  go  mad.  Hark!  Footsteps  and  voices." 

A  moment  later  the  door  flew  open,  and  a  number 
of  braves  strode  into  the  room. 


180  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  Is  that  you,  Long  Gun?  "  Bradford  asked  ex- 
citedly. 

' '  Ugh  ! ' '  grunted  the  leader  of  the  party. 

"  And  the  palefaces — where  are  they  ?  " 

"Gone." 

"Gone!"  shouted  the  prostrate  man,  writhing 
like  one  undergoing  torture.  "  Gone  !  You  shall 
pay  dearly  for  allowing  him  to  escape  ! ' ' 

Long  Gun  kicked  the  half-burned  faggots  into  a 
blazing  pile.  Then  folding  his  arms  upon  his 
brawny  chest,  he  answered  composedly  : 

"  Scar  Face  should  not  talk  big  and  loud.  See! 
He  lies  helpless,  like  a  tethered  dog.  He  can  bark, 
but  he  cannot  bite.  He  snaps  and  snarls,  and 
finds  fault  with  Long  Gun  and  his  warriors,  because 
they  did  not  capture  the  armed  palefaces,  in  the 
black  forest.  But  Scar  Face  could  not  overpower 
one  unarmed  paleface,  in  his  own  cabin.  The  young 
man  joined  his  friends.  They  fought  in  the  dark- 
ness and  made  their  escape.  My  warriors  bear 
the  marks  of  the  fight." 

"Fool !  "  Bradford  bellowed  chokingly.  "  Don't 
stand  their  gloating  over  my  predicament !  Sever 
my  bonds  at  once." 

The  chief  silently  obeyed.  Bradford  struggled 
to  his  feet,  shook  himself,  and  rubbed  his  stiffened 
limbs.  Then  he  inquired  briskly  : 

"All  three  escaped?" 

"Ugh!" 

"And  the  dog?" 

"Ugh!" 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  181 

"  Which  way  did  they  go?  " 

' '  1/ong  Gun  and  his  warriors  tried  to  follow 
them,  but  could  not.  The  black  night  swallowed 
them." 

"  Bah  !  "  sneered  the  white  man.  "And  you  call 
yourself  a  Shawnee  warrior  !  Do  not  palefaces 
leave  tracks  in  the  dark,  as  well  as  in  the  light  ? 
You  must  find  their  trail ;  you  must  follow  and 
overtake  them.  Do  you  hear  me?  Rouse  your- 
selves !  Get  torches !  I  will  accompany  you. 
Five  pounds  to  the  brave  who  first  strikes  their 
trail ;  ten  pounds  to  him  who  first  gains  sight  of 
them  !  Let's  be  off  !  Hurry  !  Hurry  !  " 

Stimulated  by  the  prospect  of  reward,  the  braves 
hurriedly  prepared  for  the  pursuit.  Out  of  the 
cabin  they  trooped,  Long  Gun  in  the  lead.  Brad- 
ford accompanied  them.  The  camp  was  enveloped 
in  darkness ;  the  rain  still  fell  steadily  —  persist- 
ently. Up  the  creek  they  proceeded,  their  naming 
torches  lighting  the  surface  of  the  muddy  stream. 
They  reached  the  ravine,  crossed  it,  and  disappeared 
in  the  thick  woods.  And  still  the  rain  fell,  and 
still  the  camp  was  wrapped  in  darkness  and  slumber. 

The  next  day,  the  allied  tribes  at  Wildcat  Creek 
packed  their  scanty  effects  and  set  out  for  the  vil- 
lage of  the  Miamis,  upon  the  Mississinewa. 

Now  let  us  return  to  the  escaped  captive  and  his 
friends. 

The  sun  was  several  hours  high  when  Ross 
awoke.  The  sky  was  clear ;  the  morning  air  crisp 


1 82  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

and  biting.  The  young  man  stretched  his  limbs 
and  drank  deeply  of  the  sweet,  invigorating  atmos- 
phere. The  grateful  odor  of  cooking  meat  greeted 
him.  A  brisk  camp-fire  blazed  at  his  feet;  and 
suspended  over  it,  by  means  of  a  tripod  of  green 
sticks,  was  a  hunk  of  venison,  roasting.  Douglas 
took  in  all  this  at  a  glance.  Then  he  looked 
around  for  his  companions.  They  were  nowhere 
in  sight. 

"Strange, "he  muttered,  picking  up  Bradford's 
rifle  and  carefully  examining  it.  "  Are  mysteries 
never  to  end  ?  Where  can  Farley  and  Bright  Wing 
be?  Of  course  they  have  not  deserted  me.  But 
where  are  they?  Why  didn't  they  wake  me? 
They  have  gone  to  investigate  something,  probably, 
for  they  have  left  the  meat  cooking.  How  soundly 
I  must  have  slept !  Their  absence  makes  me  un- 
easy." 

Dropping  upon  the  ground,  he  continued  his  crit- 
ical examination  of  the  gun  he  held  in  his  hands, 
all  the  while  communing  with  himself : 

' '  An  excellent  piece  of  English  manufacture,  and 
richly  carved  and  ornamented.  It  must  have  cost  a 
pretty  sum  of  money.  Bradford  will  hardly  thank 
me  for  relieving  him  of  it.  He  must  have  set  great 
store  by  it." — And  the  speaker  smiled. — "  I  won- 
der what  he  thought  and  did  when  he  regained 
consciousness  and  found  me  gone,  and  himself  un- 
armed and  tied.  A  mysterious  personage  !  He  kept 
me  a  prisoner;  yet  he  was  kind  to  me  and  protected 
me.  And  L,a  Violette,  how  beautiful !  A  form  and 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  183 

face  to  drive  a  man  mad  with  love.  But  all  her 
witcheries  could  not  efface  from  my  heart  the  image 
of  little  Amy  L,arkin.  Pshaw  !  what  nonsense  I'm 
talking.  Am  I  a  love-sick  schoolboy,  doomed 
to  fall  in  love  with  every  pretty  face  I  see? 
Divorce  L,aViolette  from  her  romantic  environment, 
and  she  would  be  commonplace,  perhaps.  At  any 
rate,  she  is  naught  to  me  ;  nor  I  to  her.  Why 
should  I  bestow  a  thought  upon  her?  She  forgot 
her  promise  to  me,  as  soon  as  she  had  made  it.  I'll 
think  of  Amy  —  gentle,  loving,  faithful  little  girl !  " 

A  moment  he  hung  his  head  and  was  silent. 
The  blazing  camp-fire  crackled  ;  the  roasting  meat 
steamed  and  sputtered.  Presently  Ross  shook  him- 
self, and  again  looking  about  him,  murmured  im- 
patiertly : 

' '  Confound  the  luck  !  Where  can  those  two 
runaways  be?  We  should  be  upon  our  journey. 
We  are  still  within  reach  of  the  Indians  and  Brad- 
ford. At  this  moment  a  party  may  be  hot  upon 
our  trail.  We're  wasting  precious  time.  The 
campaign  is  over;  and  I'm  anxious  to  return 
to  Amy,  to  fulfill  my  promise.  But  Bradford  1 
How  my  mind  reverts  to  that  man.  The  threads  of 
our  lives  have  crossed.  Will  they  remain  en- 
tangled ?  Ah  !  What  are  these  letters  engraved 
upon  the  stock  of  his  gun?  J.  D. — eh?  Those 
are  not  his  initials.  Evidently  he  stole  the  piece — 
as  /did.  Bradford  !  I  hate  the  treacherous  villain 
— but  I  could  not  kill  him.  Duke  hated  him, 
too.  Ah  ! " 


1 84  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Hastily  he  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  once  more 
swept  his  eyes  around  the  place,  grumbling  in  an 
irritable  undertone: 

"Where  is  the  hound?  I  hadn't  thought  of 
him.  He  wouldn't  go  far  from  my  side,  unless 
he  were  forced  to  do  so.  I'll  call  him." 

As  has  been  stated,  the  site  of  the  three  friends' 
bivouac  was  the  summit  of  a  small,  rock-strewn 
elevation.  It  was  bare  at  the  top,  but  surrounded 
at  its  base  by  a  fringe  of  stunted  bushes.  On  all 
sides  of  it  stretched  the  forest. 

Douglas  threw  his  rifle  upon  his  shoulder  and 
swiftly  descended  the  slope,  softly  calling  the  dog's 
name  as  he  went.  Just  as  he  reached  the  bottom 
of  the  gentle  declivity,  there  was  a  stir  in  the  un- 
derbrush, and  Duke  bounded  forth  to  meet  his 
master.  A  moment  later,  the  limbs  parted  and  the 
smiling  face  of  Joe  Farley  peeped  out.  The  hound 
fawned  at  Ross's  feet  and  whined  gleefully. 

"He  seems  mighty  glad  to  see  you,"  Joe  re- 
marked as  he  stepped  into  the  open. 

"Yes,"  Douglas  answered  dryly,  keenly  eyeing 
his  friend. 

"  What's  the  matter ?"  Farley  laughed.  "Did 
you  sleep  so  long  you  let  the  meat  burn  up?  A 
purty  cook  you'd  make." 

"The  meat's  cooking  nicely,"  Ross  interrupted. 
' '  But  why  did  you  leave  it  ?  What  are  you  doing 
down  here  ?  " 

"Jest  stepped  down  here  to  take  a  squint  'round 
an'  see  if  I  could  find  anything  o'  the  Injin." 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  185 

"Bright  Wing?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  is  he?" 

' '  I  don't  know  no  more'n  the  man  in  the  moon. 
When  I  woke  up  an  hour  ago  he  was  gone.  You 
was  sleepin'  so  good  I  didn't  want  to  wake  you. 
So  I  hung  up  the  chunk  o'  venison,  started  a  fire 
under  it,  an'  come  down  here  to  see  what  I  could 
see.  After  a  little  while  the  dog  follered  me. " 

"And  what  discovery  have  you  made? " 

"  None.  I  hain't  seen  hide  n'r  hair  o'  the  Injin, 
n'r  nobody  else.  I  don't  see  what's  become  o'  him. 
I  can't  make  it  out." 

Douglas  was  silent ;  and  Joe  asked  : 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?  " 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  Ross  replied 
meditatively.  "One  thing  is  certain,  however. 
We're  tarrying  too  long." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Joe. 

"But  we  can't  proceed  until  Bright  Wing  re- 
turns. ' ' 

"No,  of  course  not. " 

"  What  do  you  suggest?" 

"That  we  go  an'  have  somethin'  to  eat  while 
we're  waitin'.  I'm  as  holler  as  a  gun  bar'l.  I've 
fasted  fer  three  'r  four  days,  an'  it  seems  I  can't 
git  filled  up,  somehow.  I'm  jest  like  a  feller  in 
love  —  I  am,  by  Caroline  !  Can't  git  enough  of  it. 
I  remember  one  time  when  a  score  o'  purty  women 
was  hankerin'  after  me.  They  was  perfectly  dis- 
tracted over  my  good  looks.  But  I  wasn't  in  love 


1 86  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

with  one  of  'em  ;  an'  it  didn't  take  me  long  to  git 
enough  o'  their  billin'  an'  cooin'.  Then  I  remem- 
ber another  time  w'en  a  small  piece  o'  linsey-wool- 
sey got  in  my  mind,  an'  I  couldn't  git  'er  out.  She 
was  purty  as  a  picttir' ,  an'  sharper  eyed  'n  a  black- 
bird. But  she  didn't  keer  a  continental  fer  me ;  an' 
I  nearly  starved  to  death  fer  the  want  o'  her  love. 
I  pined  away  to  skin  an'  bone,  an'  become  a  reg'lar 
shadder.  Served  me  right,  fer  the  way  I'd  used 
them  other  women,  I  reckon.  I  ain't  much  on  re- 
ligion, but  I  b'lieve  a  man  gits  his  punishment  fer 
his  evil  deeds  right  here  on  earth  —  I  do,  by  Sa- 
manthy  !  But  what  're  you  thinkin'  'bout,  Ross 
Douglas?" 

Ross  stood  absent-mindedly  gazing  into  the  som- 
ber depths  of  the  surrounding  forest.  Evidently 
he  had  heard  little  that  his  loquacious  friend  had 
been  saying.  But  at  the  question  he  started,  and 
replied  serio-comically  : 

' '  I  was  thinking  I  had  heard  you  speak  of  your 
numerous  conquests  before,  Joe." 

"So  you  have." — And  the  other  nodded  sol- 
emnly and  vigorously. — "The  Good  Book  says 
that  from  the  fullness  o'  the  gizzard  the  tongue 
wags — 'r  words  to  that  effect.  I  never  was  good 
at  quotin'  Scriptur'.  Anyhow,  a  man's  liable  to 
talk  'bout  what's  on  his  conscience.  It's  a  con- 
sumin'  fire  that  won't  let  him  rest.  As  fer  me, 
toyin'  with  women  f oiks' s  affections  has  been  my 
besettin'  sin.  Now  I'm  gittin'  up  in  years,  I'd 
like  to  find  a  purty  woman,  an'  marry  an'  settle 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  187 

down.  But  I've  burned  out  the  candle  o'  the 
I^ord's  mercy  an'  blowed  the  ashes  in  his'face,  an' 
he  won't  hear  my  prayers." — Here  Joe  sighed 
deeply,  lugubriously. —  "Be  keerful  you  don't  do 
the  same  thing,  Ross  Douglas.  Let  my  horrible 
example  be  a  warnin'  to  you.  Don't  toy  with 
women's  hearts.  As  I  was  goin'  to  say " 

"Did  I  understand  you  to  say  you're  hungry, 
Joe?"  Douglas  interrupted. 

"Of  course,  I'm  hungry,"  Farley  answered  in  an 
injured  tone.  "I'm  alluz  hungry.  When  I  was  a 
boy  I  foolishly  took  a  drink  o'  water  out  of  a  frog 
pond,  an'  swallered  'bout  a  dozen  tadpoles.  Well, 
sir,  them  tadpoles  growed  to  frogs;  an'  they're  in 
my  stomach  yit.  They  take  all  the  victuals  I  put 
into  my  mouth  ;  an'  w'en  they  git  re1 1  hungry,  they 
set  up  such  a  croakin'  I  can't  sleep  fer  the  noise 
they  make.  Once  I  got  to  foolin'  'round  a  log 
bear-trap  in  the  woods,  an'  the  door  fell  down  an' 
shut  me  in.  I  was  a  pris'ner  fer  'bout  a  week  ;  an' 
was  nearly  starved  to  death  an"  crazier  'n  a  loon, 
w'en  some  fellers  found  me  an'  let  me  out.  Well, 
sir,  first  them  frogs  went  to  croakin'  fer  somethin' 
to  eat,  an'  they  kep'  it  up  fer  four  days,  never 
lettin'  up  a  minute.  Then  they  got  dry  fer 
water,  an'  they  commenced  hoppin'  'round  in  my 
inside  an'  tryin'  to  git  out.  Talk  'bout  sufferin'! 
The  oP  martyrs  never  had  to  stand  what  I  stood 
out  there  in  that  bear- trap.  The  'xperience  left 
lines  o'  sufferin'  on  my  comely  visage,  that  I  hain't 
never  got  red  of.  It  come  purty  near  spilin'  my 


1 88  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

beauty  ferever  —  it  did,  by  Melindy  Jane!  W'y, 
dang-it-all-to-dingnation  !  I  tell  you ' ' 

"Joe." 

"Well?" 

"  If  you  don't  mean  to  feed  your  colony  of  frogs 
on  charred  meat,  you'd  better  look  after  that  roast- 
ing venison.  It's  scorching  ;  I  smell  it." 

"  By  my  great  uncle's  snuffbox,  but  that's  a  fact! 
An'  me  a-standin'  here,  a-blowin'  my  bugle,  like  a 
shaller-pated  fool  !  " 

Farley  loped  up  the  slope,  to  the  camp-fire,  and 
rescued  the  hunk  of  venison  from  the  coals  where 
it  had  fallen.  Douglas  followed  leisurely,  a  preoc- 
cupied look  upon  his  dark,  handsome  face.  Duke 
trotted  at  his  heels. 

"It's  done  now  —  an'  good  art  done!  "  Joe  grum- 
bled. "  But  it's  all  we've  got,  an'  we'll  make  the 
best  of  it.  Dang  a  long  an'  limber  tongue,  any- 
how !  Mine's  alluz  gittin'  me  into  some  dangna- 
tion  trouble.  Well,  we  can  cut  off  the  burnt  parts 
an'  feed  'em  to  the  dog.  Jest  see  the  hungry  purp  ! 
L,ooks  like  he'd  like  to  take  a  slice  out  o'  me,  this 
very  minute.  Ther',  Duke,  clap  y'r  jaws  on  that. 
Gone  a' ready,  an'  wantin'  more?  Ross  Douglas,  I 
may  have  a  colony  o'  frogs  in  me,  but  this  houn'  o' 
yours  is  infested  with  a  tapeworm  bigger  'n  a  black- 
snake —  he  is,  by  King  Solermen's  harem  !  Git 
y'r  knife  out,  an'  le's  fall  to  an'  eat ;  no  use  to  wait 
on  the  Injin  —  no  tellin'  where  he  is." 

Ross's  preoccupied  air  had  not  deserted  him ;  and 
he  ate  sparingly  of  the  tempting  food.  The  eccen- 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  189 

trie  woodman  ravenously  devoured  great  slices  of 
the  meat,  grudgingly  tossing  the  dog  the  burnt 
portions.  At  last  he  paused  in  his  masticatory  pro- 
cess and  exclaimed  : 

"  Ross,  somethin's  botherin'  you  the  worst  kind; 
an'  whatever  it  is,  it's  takin'  y'r  appetite." 

"  I'm  thinking,"  Douglas  replied. 

"  Well,  what  're  you  thinkin'  of  ?  " 

"  Of  what  has  become  of  Bright  Wing." 

"An'  what's  yer  c'nclusion?  " 

' '  That  he  has  gone  back  over  our  trail,  to  dis- 
cover if  we  are  followed." 

"It's  more'n  likely,"  Joe  assented.  "But  we 
can't  do  nothin'  but  wait  fer  him,  can  we?" 

"No." 

' '  Well,  that's  settled  then.     Say  ! ' ' 

"Well?" 

"  Why  didn't  you  kill  that  Bradford  — the  low- 
lived skunk  —  when  you  had  a  chance?  'Twould 
'ave  saved  us  no  end  o'  trouble,  p'r'aps.  Maybe 
he's  on  our  trail  this  minute,  with  a  band  o'  mur- 
derin'  red  devils  at  his  back." 

"It's  probable." 

"  Well,  why  didn't  you  kill  him  ?  " 

"  I  had  reasons  for  not  doing  so." 

"  What  was  they  ?" 

"  I  don't  care  to  say." 

"  Huh!  You're  gittin'  closer  'n  a  clam,"  Joe  mut- 
tered irritably. 

Then  he  continued : 

"  An'  you  didn't  kill  that  ol'  cuss  of  a  Prophet?" 


1 90  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Ross  remained  silent. 

"  N'r  Tecumseh,  n'r  none  of  'em  ?  " 

"  I  was  hardly  in  a  position  to  make  a  wholesale 
slaughter  of  my  enemies,"  Ross  replied  laughingly. 
"  I  was  a  captive,  and  surrounded  by  hundreds  of 
bloodthirsty  savages.  I  consider  myself  fortu- 
nate to  have  escaped  with  my  life." 

"  Yes,  that's  so,"  Farley  assented  in  a  dissatisfied 
tone.  "  But  it  seems  to  me  this  campaign  hain't 
amounted  to  much.  Tecumseh's  back  among  his 
warriors ;  an'  Bradford  an'  the  Prophet's  still  alive. 
They'll  be  hatchin' more  devilment,  'fore  the  next 
new  moon.  Howsoever,  I've  done  my  part  an'  hain't 
got  nothin'  to  regret.  But  I  don't  want  to  be  a 
soldier  no  more  ;  I'd  ruther  fight  on  my  own  hook. 
This  thing  o'  drivin'  oxen  from  one  end  o'  the  In- 
diany  Territory  to  the  other  ain't  what  it's  cracked  up 
to  be." — And  he  sighed  feelingly. — "  All  I  want's 
to  git  back  to  my  cabin  on  the  ol'  Scioto  —  W'y, 
ding-it-all-to-dangnation!  There's  the  Injin  this 
blessed  minute  ! " 

Both  white  men  hastily  arose  and  ran  to  meet 
their  red  comrade,  who  came  bounding  up  the 
slope,  with  the  speed  and  grace  of  an  antelope.  Ere 
they  reached  his  side,  they  saw  him  place  his  finger 
upon  his  lips,  in  token  of  silence. 

"What  is  it?"  Douglas  asked  in  an  anxious 
whisper. 

Bright  Wing  drew  a  full  breath  and  replied: 

"  Scar  Face  and  many  braves." 

' '  Where  ?     How  far  away  ?  " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  191 

' '  Three  —  four  gunshots. " 

"  And  upon  our  trail  ?  " 

"Ugh  !" 

"  Are  they  moving  rapidly  ?  " 

"  Ugh  !  Soon  be  here.  Scar  Face,  bad  Shawnees 
and  Pottawatomies.  Come  fast ;  soon  be  here." 

"Let's  be  off,  then,"  Ross  said  calmly.  "We 
have  no  time  to  lose." 

"  Grab  up  that  piece  o'  meat,  Injin,  an'  put  it  in 
y'r  pouch,"  Joe  cried,  excitedly.  "  You  can  eat  it 
on  the  run.  We've  had  our  sheer.  Dang  the  var- 
mints, anyhow!  They  mean  to  give  us  a  long  an' 
hot  chase." 

Quickly  they  descended  the  eastern  slope,  worked 
their  way  through  the  fringe  of  bushes  surrounding 
its  base,  and  set  off  at  a  rapid  pace  through  the 
forest.  Bright  Wing  led  the  way.  They  bore 
toward  the  southeast.  With  the  foresight  and  cun- 
ning of  trained  woodmen,  they  exercised  all  the  arts 
of  their  craft  to  throw  their  pursuers  off  their  trail. 
Here  they  followed  the  bed  of  a  stream,  soaking 
their  moccasins  in  the  icy  water  to  hide  their  faint 
footprints ;  there  they  doubled  on  their  track  and 
took  a  new  direction.  At  intervals,  they  separated 
and  made  wide  detours  from  the  main  course,  only 
to  meet  again  further  on.  Occasionally  they  paused 
momentarily,  to  drink  from  some  running  stream  or 
to  strain  their  senses  for  sight  or  sound  of  their 
enemies.  Then  on  again — swiftly,  tirelessly. 

The  noon  hour  came  and  went.  The  sun  —  now 
veiled  by  scudding  clouds,  now  shining  brightly  — 


192 

begau  a  descent  of  the  western  arc  of  the  heavens. 
The  wind  rose  raw  and  disagreeable.  Black  cloud 
banks  began  to  pile  up  on  the  horizon,  indicating 
an  approaching  snowstorm.  The  short  winter  day 
advanced  jrapidly. 

The  topography  of  the  country  again  changed. 
The  surface  of  the  land  grew  flatter ;  open  glades 
appeared  here  and  there  in  the  thick  woods.  At 
last  Joe  stopped  and  remarked  complainingly  : 

"  I've  gone  'bout  as  far's  I'm  goin'  in  one  day  — 
I  have,  by  Molly  !  My  feet's  wet  an'  cold,  an"  I've 
got  a  crick  o'  the  rheumatiz  in  my  back,  that's  pes- 
terin'  me  like  the  nation.  Feels  like  a  swarm  o' 
hornets  had  took  a  roost  there.  We  hain't  got 
nothin'  to  eat,  which  is  purty  sad  ;  but  we  can  build 
a  fire  an'  rest  an'  roast  our  shins,  which  '11  be  some 
sort  o'  comfort,  anyhow.  I'm  o'  the  'pinion  we've 
throwed  the  redskins  off  our  track  ;  we  hain't  heerd 
n'r  seen  nothin'  of  'em  sence  we  broke  camp.  I've 
purty  nigh  come  to  the  c'nclusion  that  you  was  mis- 
taken, Injin — that  you  didn't  see  no  one  follerin'  us." 

Bright  Wing's  beady  eyes  flashed. 

' '  Joe  heap  big  fool  some  more  !  "  he  grunted  con- 
temptuously. ' '  Bright  Wing  see  Scar  Face  and 
many  braves.  Bad  Shawnees  and  Pottawatomies 
still  on  trail.  Like  hound  ;  no  give  up  and  go  back. 
Want  scalps  bad.  Bright  Wing  go  on.  Joe  stay  ; 
build  fire  ;  loose  scalp.  Ugh  !  " 

"  An'  a  heap  you'll  keer,  if  I^z'/my  hair  raised," 
Farley  retorted  crossly.  "  You're  jest  like  the  rest 
o'  y'r  people." 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  193 

' '  Joe  ! ' '  Douglas  interrupted  sternly. 

"  Well,  what  is  it?  "  was  the  surly  response. 

' '  Once  more  you  are  talking  idle  nonsense.  Your 
tongue  will  again  get  you  into  trouble.  You  know, 
as  well  as  I,  that  Bright  Wing  has  told  us  the  truth. 
We  can't  stop  here;  we  musn't.  Such  an  act 
would  be  the  sheerest  folly." 

"Yes,  I  s'pose  you're  right,"  Joe  admitted  in  a 
mollified  tone.  "  We've  got  to  keep  on.  Dang  the 
redskins,  anyway  !  The  doctors  says  exercise  is  a 
good  thing  ;  but  I  ain't  hankerin'  fer  any  more  of  it, 
jest  now.  They  say  it's  a  mighty  powerful  thing 
to  give  a  feller  an  appetite ;  an'  I  can  believe  that 
statement  without  half  tryin',  fer  them  frogs  in  me 
has  gone  to  croakin'  like  sixty.  That's  what  made 
me  so  flustered  an'  cantankerous.  Well,  Injin,  lead 
on.  I'll  roller  you,  if  I  wear  my  legs  off  up  to  my 
shoulders  —  I  will,  'r  my  name  ain'  t  Joseph  Peregoy 
Farley!" 

Once  more  they  set  forward.  But  they  had  gone 
only  a  hundred  yards,  when  the  Wyandot,  with  a 
startled  grunt,  came  to  an  abrupt  stop. 

' '  What  'ave  you  diskivered  now  ?  ' '  Farley  in- 
quired, stepping  forward. 

"Afresh  trail!"  Ross  exclaimed,  stooping  and 
examining  the  moist  earth  and  damp  leaves. 

The  three  comrades  bent  down  and  closely  scru- 
tinized the  numerous  tracks.  The  light  in  the  for- 
est was  dim  ;  and  they  painfully  strained  their  eyes 
over  the  alarming  discovery,  as  they  attempted  to 
read  its  meaning  aright.  After  a  minute's  exatni- 
13 


194  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

nation,  they  arose  and  silently  looked  at  one  another. 
Presently  Douglas  said  in  an  undertone : 

"What  do  you  make  of  it,  Bright  Wing?  " 

"  Redmen,"  was  the  emphatic  reply. 

"  And  quite  a  number  of  them." 

"Ugh!" 

"  Of  course  that  trail  was  made  by  redskins," 
Joe  volunteered  in  a  stage  whisper.  "  'Cause  ther's 
nobody  else  in  these  parts  to  make  it.  An'  more  'n 
that,  there's  a  score  'r  more  of  'em,  an'  they're  mov- 
in'  in  the  direction  we're  goin'.  That  trail  ain't 
more  'n  a  few  hours  old,  at  most.  I'll  tell  you  my 
explanation  o'  the  affair." 

"  What  is  it?  "  Ross  asked. 

"  Wy,  dang-it-all-to-dingnation  !  that  Scar  Face 
an'  his  murderin',  scalpin'  gang  o'  red  devils  has 
sarcumvented  us  an'  got  ahead  of  us,  that's  what. 
Though  how  in  the  name  o'  Dan'l  Boone  they  ever 
done  it,  I  can't  imagine  !  They  must  'ave  found 
some  short  cut." 

Bright  Wing  decidedly  shook  his  head  and  grunted: 

"No  believe." 

' '  You  don't  believe  Joe's  theory  that  the  trail  was 
made  by  Scar  Face  and  his  band  ?  "  Douglas  said 
quickly. 

"  No  believe." 

"  By  whom,  then?" 

"  Winnebagoes. " 

"  But,"  Ross  objected,  "  the  Winnebagoes  have 
returned  to  their  northern  village." 

"  Not  all  go,"  the  Wyandot  asserted  positively. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  195 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  Winnebagoes  make  tracks." 

And  the  Indian  pointed  to  the  fresh  trail. 

Stooping  and  passing  his  finger  over  a  moist  spot 
of  bare  earth,  Bright  Wing  replied  triumphantly  : 

"See,  moccasin  track.  No  Shawnee  moccasin, 
no  Pottawatomie  moccasin  ;  Winnebago  moccasin." 

In  silent  wonder  the  two  white  men  stood  staring 
at  their  red  friend.  At  last  Farley  burst  forth  : 

"Well,  if  that  don't  beat  me  !  The  idee  o'  tellin' 
one  moccasin  track  •  from  another  !  I'd  as  soon 
think  o'  tellin'  one  bear's  track  from  another  —  I 
would,  by  Hanner  Ann  !  It's  easy  to  tell  a  wolf's 
track  from  a  fox's,  but  to  tell  one  redskin's  track 
from  another's  is  a  thing  I  never  learnt ;  an'  I  never 
could,  if  I  lived  a  thousan'  years.  But  no  doubt 
the  Injin's  right,  Ross  Douglas.  It's  prob'ly  a 
huntin'  band  o'  the  Wirmebagoes  that's  loiterin' 
'round  in  this  neck  o'  woods.  An'  we've  got  red- 
skins behind  us,  an'  redskins  before  us.  Now  what 
're  we  goin'  to  do?  That's  what  I'd  like  to  know." 

"  It  will  soon  be  dark  ;  we  must  push  forward," 
Ross  replied. 

"An'  tumble  plump  into  the  clutches  o'  the  Win- 
nebagoes," Joe  answered.  ' '  They're  devils  to  fight; 
an'  as  cruel  an'  bloodthirsty  as  the  Shawnees." 

' '  To  remain  here  means  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  band  upon  our  trail,"  Douglas  returned  hastily. 
' '  The  Winnebagoes  know  nothing  of  us  ;  perhaps 
we  can  avoid  them.  What  have  you  to  say,  Bright 
Wing?" 


196  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  Scar  Face  and  braves  back  there  ;  Winnebagoes 
out  there,"  the  Wyandot  answered,  indicating  each 
direction  with  his  finger.  "  Go  that  way." 

' '  You  mean  we  should  leave  the  Winnebago  trail 
to  the  south,  until  we  have  passed  them  ?  " 

"  Ugh  !  " —  With  a  vigorous  nod. 

"  Very  well.     Let's  be  moving." 

"  But,"  cried  Joe,  "that's  goin'  to  take  us  'way 
out  of  our  course." 

' '  It's  better  to  leave  our  course  than  to  lose  our 
lives,"  was  Douglas's  answer,  as  he  shouldered  his 
rifle  and  followed  the  Indian. 

Farley  offered  no  reply,  but  silently  brought  up 
the  rear.  Duke  trotted  softly  at  his  master's  side. 
The  shadows  of  night  gathered  noiselessly — swiftly. 
The  four  dusky  figures  moved  forward.  The  sky 
was  thickly  obscured  by  clouds ;  the  darkness  was 
intense.  Snow  began  to  fall  in  fine,  downy  flakes. 
Still  the  four  black  forms  —  now  a  part  of  the  gen- 
eral blackness  —  glided  onward,  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously. 

"  I  say  we've  got  far  enough,"  Farley  ventured  at 
last,  in  a  soft  whisper. 

Douglas  was  about  to  turn  and  make  reply,  when 
Bright  Wing  suddenly  gave  a  grunt  of  warning  and 
dropped  to  the  ground.  His  companions  followed 
his  example.  A  hoarse  growl  rumbled  up  from 
Duke's  deep  chest,  as  he  crouched  like  a  tiger  pre- 
paring for  a  spring.  The  next  moment  the  sound 
of  light  footfalls  came  to  the  ears  of  all* 

"  Surrounded  !  "  gasped  Douglas. 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  197 

"  Fell  into  a  trap,  jest  as  I  expected  !  "  muttered 
Farley.  "  We're  out  o'  the  fryin'-pan  into  the 
fire  ! " 

Duke  uttered  a  vicious  bay  and  sprang  to  his 
feet.  Then  the  forest  rang  with  a  chorus  of  fiend- 
ish yells,  as  though  all  the  imps  of  hell  had  broken 
loose  at  once. 

In  a  moment  the  three  men  were  upon  their  feet. 
The  belching  rifles  of  their  enemies  surrounded 
them  with  a  ring  of  flame.  Ross  Douglas  felt  a 
stinging,  burning  sensation  in  his  right  breast.  He 
discharged  his  gun,  and  staggered  against  a  neigh- 
boring tree.  Sparks  of  red  and  green  light  flashed 
before  his  eyes  ;  a  cataract  roared  in  his  ears.  Dimly 
he  discerned  the  savage  forms  swarming  around 
him ;  faintly  he  heard  the  whoops  of  the  Indians 
and  the  lusty  cheers  of  his  two  comrades.  Then  he 
grew  faint  and  dkzy.  His  limbs  trembled ;  his 
brain  swam.  He  coughed  ;  and  a  stream  of  hot  blood 
welled  up  in  his  throat.  His  legs  failed  him,  and  he 
sank  upon  the  ground.  As  one  in  a  dream,  he  heard 
Farley  saying: 

"  The  poor  boy's  done  fer,  Bright  Wing  !  He's 
bleedin'  from  the  mouth,  an'  senseless.  'Taint  no 
use  to  stand  by  him  no  longer  ;  he's  past  all  help. 
L,e's  try  to  cut  our  way  out  o'  this  muss.  We  can't 
more  'n  die  !  An'  maybe  it  '11  draw  the  cusses  away 
from  the  spot,  an'  save  his  scalp! " 

The  Wyandot's  war-whoop  and  Farley's  stentorian 
bellow  again  sounded  above  the  yells  of  their  ene- 
mies. Fainter  and  fainter  grew  the  indescribable 


198 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 


sounds  of  conflict  in  the  darkness ;  and  Ross  was 
alone.  No,  not  alone ;  for  a  dark  body  sprang  to 
his  side  and,  whimpering  pitifully,  crouched  and 
licked  his  face.  It  was  Duke. 

Then  the  wounded  man  became  blind,  deaf,  un- 
conscious. And  the  soft  snow  fell  and  covered 
him,  as  a  winding-sheet. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WHEN  Ross  Douglas  regained  consciousness,  it 
was  still  night ;  but  the  heavens  were  clear 
and  starlit.  The  snow  had  ceased  to  fall ; 
the  air  was  still  and  cold.  A  thin  mantle  of  spot- 
less white  covered  the  earth.  In  the  uncertain 
light,  the  bare  tree  trunks  looked  like  files  and 
squads  of  ghostly  soldiers. 

The  wounded  man  attempted  to  change  his  posi- 
tion, but  the  pain  in  his  right  breast  warned  him  to 
lie  still.  His  attempted  movement  attracted  the 
attention  of  his  faithful,  four-footed  friend,  who 
was  sitting  by  his  side.  The  hound  whined  plain- 
tively, and  licked  his  master's  face.  Ross  put  out 
his  hand  and  patted  the  dog's  head.  This  so 
pleased  Duke,  that  he  frisked  about  and  barked 
joyfully,  doing  his  best  to  entice  his  beloved  master 
from  his  icy  bed  upon  the  frozen  ground. 

Douglas  instantly  remembered  what  had  oc- 
curred, and  fully  realized  his  forlorn  and  helpless 
condition.  But  he  was  not  one  to  yield  to  despair. 
Lying  there  desperately  wounded  —  in  a  wilderness 
full  of  savage  enemies,  and  far  from  any  settlement 
—  he  resolved  to  outwit  death  or  die  gamely.  He  be- 
gan an  examination  of  himself  and  his  surroundings. 
He  found  that  he  still  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  tree 
where  he  had  fallen.  His  wound  had  ceased  to 

(199) 


200  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

bleed,  but  his  hunting-shirt  was  stiff  with  frozen 
blood  ;  and  the  saline  taste  of  the  crimson  life-tide 
was  yet  in  his  throat.  Every  breath  caused  him  a 
pang  ;  and  a  deep  inspiration  gave  him  excruciating 
torture.  But  he  could  move  his  arms  and  legs 
without  much  pain  or  difficulty.  Again  he  essayed 
to  arise,  but  fell  back  with  a  groan  ;  he  was  too 
weak  from  fasting  and  loss  of  blood. 

"  If  only  I  could  get  upon  my  feet ! "  he  mur- 
mured. "  I  shall  freeze  here." 

Seeing  that  his  master  could  not  arise,  Duke  had 
returned  to  his  former  position.  Now  he  tilted  his 
muzzle  aloft  and  bayed  mournfully. 

"  There  —  there,  old  fellow!"  Ross  said  sooth- 
ingly. "  Keep  up  your  courage.  Things  are  not 
entirely  hopeless  so  long  as  we  two  are  together. 
Ah!  Perhaps  you  can  help  me  to  get  up.  Here, 
let  me  get  my  arms  around  your  neck.  That's  it. 
Now,  Duke,  pull  —  pull!" 

The  bloodhound  was  accustomed  to  obeying  his 
master's  every  command.  Digging  his  claws  into 
the  flinty  earth,  he  stretched  his  lithe,  muscular 
body,  in  an  attempt  to  do  the  bidding  of  the  being 
he  loved.  Ross  clung  tenaciously  to  the  noble 
animal's  neck.  The  result  was  he  was  dragged  to 
a  sitting  posture.  The  effort  cost  him  much  pain, 
but  he  gained  his  object.  Duke  was  delighted  ;  he 
ran  about  in  a  circle  and  barked  vociferously. 

leaning  his  back  against  the  tree-trunk,  Douglas 
panted : 

"  This  is  better  !      I'm  off  the  flat  of  my  back  — 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  201 

half-way  upon  my  feet.  After  a  short  rest  I'll 
make  a  further  effort.  What  should  I  have  done 
without  my  faithful  dog  ?  " 

In  attempting  to  shift  himself  to  an  easier  position, 
he  placed  his  hand  upon  his  gun,  which  was  lying 
where  he  had  dropped  it.  With  a  joyful  exclama- 
tion, he  caught  it  up  and  feebly  dragged  it  across 
his  lap.  Then,  taking  the  skirt  of  his  hunting-shirt, 
he  carefully  wiped  and  dried  the  weapon,  remark- 
ing to  himself  as  he  did  so  : 

"I  have  a  gun  —  I  have  ammunition  —  I  have 
flint  and  steel.  If  I  can  manage  to  light  a  fire,  I 
shall  be  in  no  danger  of  freezing.  Then,  perhaps, 
I  may  be  able  to  shoot  some  animal  for  food  —  pro- 
vided it  comes  near  my  camp.  I  must  have  some- 
thing to  eat." 

He  sighed  breathlessly.  Then  drawing  his  legs 
well  under  him  and  using  his  gun  as  an  aid,  he 
commenced  slowly  to  arise  to  a  standing  posture, 
all  the  time  keeping  his  back  firmly  pressed  against 
the  tree-trunk.  The  task  was  a  herculean  one ;  but 
after  several  failures  he  succeeded.  Duke  simply 
went  wild  with  delight,  rolling  over  and  over  in  the 
snow  and  barking  frantically. 

After  resting  a  few  minutes,  Douglas,  leaning 
heavily  upon  his  rifle,  tried  to  take  a  few  steps. 
His  legs  trembled  and  threatened  to  give  way  un- 
der him,  and  every  fiber  in  his  body  ached  and 
quivered  ;  but  he  resolutely  put  out  one  foot  after 
the  other.  His  head  swam,  and  he  reeled  and 
tottered  like  an  infant.  But  he  succeeded  in  mak- 


202  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

ing  his  way  to  another  tree,  against  which  he 
leaned,  gasping  for  breath.  Standing  there,  he 
tremblingly  reloaded  his  rifle. 

' '  Better  than  I  expected  !  "  he  whispered  with 
bloodless  lips.  ' '  Much  better  !  Now  I  shall  seek 
a  sheltered  spot  and  build  a  fire. ' ' 

Putting  his  resolution  into  action,  he  slowly  and 
painfully  worked  his  way  to  a  small  depression, 
a  short  distance  from  the  scene  of  conflict.  It  was 
half-filled  with  drifted  leaves  and  snow,  and  almost 
surrounded  by  bushes  and  briers.  Near  it  were 
the  dead  and  dry  limbs  of  a  fallen  tree. 

Staggering  into  this  natural  shelter,  Ross 
dropped  upon  the  ground.  Duke  accompanied 
him.  The  wounded  man  laboriously  cleared  the 
cave  of  the  accumulated  mass  of  snow  and  leaves. 
When  he  had  finished  his  hard  task,  he  took  out 
his  flint  and  steel,  and,  after  several  discouraging 
failures,  succeeded  in  starting  a  fire.  Upon  the 
tiny  flame  he  piled  sticks  from  the  fallen  tree-tops, 
which  soon  were  ablaze.  With  a  sigh  of  relief  and 
comfort,  he  fell  back  and  closed  his  eyes. 

After  a  time,  however,  the  genial  warmth  pene- 
trated his  chilled  and  stiffened  frame  and  aroused 
him  from  the  partial  swoon  into  which  he  had 
fallen.  Sitting  erect,  he  held  out  his  hands  to  the 
welcome  blaze  and  murmured  tremulously  : 

"What  a  man  can  do!  Oh,  this  cough!  It 
almost  strangles  me  ;  and  the  pain  is  awful.  Still 
I'm  better  off  than  I  was  —  much  better.  I  shall 
not  freeze,  at  any  rate.  But  I  must  have  food.  I 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  203 


am  so  weak.  lyet  me  see,"  —  rolling  his  eyes 
heavenward,  —  "the  stars  indicate  that  it's  after 
midnight.  I'll  rest  by  the  fire  until  morning  ; 
then  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  procure  something  to 
eat." 

Again  he  coughed  spasmodically  —  hackingly. 
When  the  paroxysm  had  passed,  he  continued  his 
whispered,  broken  monologue  : 

'  '  I  wonder  what  became  of  Bright  Wing  and 
Joe.  I'm  glad  they  thought  me  dead.  ,  They'd 
have  sacrificed  their  lives  by  staying  ;  and 
done  me  no  good.  They  may  be  dead  ;  they  may 
be  prisoners  among  the  Winnebagoes  ;  or  they 
may  have  escaped.  If  they  got  away  unharmed, 
they'll  return  to  Franklin  ton  and  report  my 
death.  My  God!  My  God!  Amy  —  dear  girl! 
The  news  will  break  her  heart.  And  —  great 
heavens  !  She  may  be  persuaded  to  marry  George 
Billiard  !  " 

Bowing  his  head  upon  his  hands,  he  groaned. 
He  was  suffering  mentally  and  physically.  His 
temples  were  throbbing  ;  his  skin  was  hot  and 
dry.  The  demon  of  fever  was  dancing  through  his 
arteries. 

For  some  time,  he  sat  silently  staring  into  the 
depths  of  the  fire.  Above  him  the  stars  winked 
pitilessly  ;  around  him  the  lean  shadows  glided 
among  the  trees  and  eerily  mocked  him.  No  eye 
but  God's  was  upon  him  ;  no  hand  was  stretched 
forth  to  save  him. 

He  mused  mumblingly  —  half  deliriously  : 


204  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"Even  God  will  not  help  me.  He  would  not, 
if  he  could.  He  has  laid  down  inflexible  laws  for 
the  government  of  the  universe  ;  he  will  not  alter 
them  to  accommodate  the  individual.  But  I'll 
not  despair  —  I  will  not!  I  will  overcome  all 
obstacles ;  I  will  cheat  fate.  The  snow  has  con- 
cealed all  signs  of  our  encounter  with  the  Winne- 
-bagoes ;  has  covered  our  trail.  Bradford  and  his 
braves  will  never  find  me.  On  the  morrow  I'll 
procure  food ;  then  I  shall  be  stronger.  I'll 
work  my  way  eastward,  by  easy  stages.  Now 
I'll  lie  down  and  try  to  snatch  a  few  hours  of 
natural  sleep.  Oh !  This  terrific  cough  and  pain ! 
And  my  head  ! ' ' 

He  piled  more  dry  wood  upon  the  fire,  and 
stretched  himself  upon  the  ground.  Duke  nestled 
at  his  back  and  helped  to  keep  him  warm.  The 
red  blaze  crackled  cheerily  ;  the  smoke  and  sparks 
ascended  in  gyrating  columns.  The  wounded  man 
lay  and  watched  them  until  his  eyelids  closed. 

When  he  awoke  it  was  broad  daylight.  The 
fire  had  burned  down  ;  only  a  few  gray  embers  and 
charred  bits  of  wood  marked  its  place.  Duke,  with 
bristles  erect,  was  sitting  by  his  master's  side, 
growling  mutteringly  —  warningly.  It  was  this 
sound  that  had  awakened  the  sleeper. 

Ross  rubbed  his  eyes  and  sought  to  arise.  But 
his  limbs  were  as  lead  ;  his  blood  was  as  ice.  He 
stirred ;  and  a  thousand  needles  pricked  his  flesh. 
By  great  effort  he  sat  erect.  His  head  gave  him 
keenest  torture ;  his  eyes  threatened  to  drop  from 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  205 

their  sockets.  His  sight  was  dim.  Strange  noises 
rang  in  his  ears.  He  tried  to  take  a  deep  breath  ; 
but  the  pain  in  his  chest  caused  him  to  moan 
aloud.  His  heart  was  thumping  tumultuous^. 
Thor's  hammer  was  beating  in  his  brain. 

Again  the  bloodhound  uttered  a  hoarse,  rumbling 
growl ;  and  this  time,  sprang  to  his  feet  and  ad- 
vanced a  step  or  two  from  his  master's  side. 

"Someone  or  something  is  approaching,"  was 
Douglas's  mental  comment.  Then  aloud  :  ' '  Watch 
them,  Duke  —  but  do  not  leave  me  !  " 

But  the  dog  had  no  intention  of  deserting  his 
charge.  Rigidly  erect,  menace  and  defiance  in  his 
attitude,  he  stood  his  ground.  Ross  listened  in- 
tently, and  thought  he  heard  stealthy  footsteps 
beyond  the  fringe  of  bushes  that  shut  him  in.  But, 
through  the  interstices  in  the  brush  and  brambles, 
he  could  see  no  one.  Once  more  the  hound 
growled,  and  more  sharply  than  before.  Then 
Douglas  caught  the  patter  of  moccasined  feet  upon 
the  snow-covered  leaves,  and  the  buzz  of  whispered 
words.  A  moment  later  the  bushes  parted  and 
a  painted  Shawnee  peeped  into  the  glade. 

Duke's  bristles  quivered  ;  his  wicked  eyes  blazed. 
Revealing  a  double  row  of  ivory  fangs,  he  snarled 
savagely  and  crouched  for  a  spring.  Excitement 
lent  strength  to  Douglas's  limbs.  In  some  way  — 
he  never  knew  how  —  he  got  upon  his  feet  and 
flung  his  heavy  gun  to  his  shoulder.  With  a 
grunt  of  surprise  and  terror,  the  Indian  instantly 
withdrew  his  painted  visage. 


2o6  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Ross  sank  in  a  heap  upon  the  ground,  whisper- 
ing brokenly : 

"Too  weak  —  too  weak!  I'm  at  their  mercy. 
Ah!  Duke,  old  fellow,  our  time  has  come  —  for 
you  will  die  fighting  for  me  ! ' ' 

And  closing  his  aching  eyes,  he  lay  gasping. 

Then  came  a  thunderous  rush  among  the  bushes; 
and  a  half  dozen  savages  stood  within  the  cove, 
and  as  many  rifles  were  pointed  at  the  form  of  the 
prostrate  and  helpless  man.  Duke  leaped  at  the 
throat  of  the  nearest  brave,  and  with  him  rolled 
upon  the  ground.  At  that  moment  a  husky  voice 
bellowed : 

"Stop,  you  cowardly  curs!  Would  you  murder 
a  wounded  and  helpless  man  ?  Harm  a  hair  of  his 
head,  and  I'll  have  the  life  of  the  last  one  of  you! 
Didn't  I  tell  you  he  was  to  be  taken  alive  ?  Out  of 
my  way ! ' ' 

It  was  the  voice  of  Hiram  Bradford.  Douglas 
had  just  enough  consciousness  left  to  realize  what 
was  occurring,  just  enough  strength  remaining  to 
call  off  his  dog.  Then  he  swooned. 

Bradford  shoved  the  savages  right  and  left,  and 
bent  over  the  form  of  the  unconscious  man.  He 
placed  his  hand  over  Douglas's  heart  and  listened 
to  the  faint,  irregular  respiration.  He  gazed 
earnestly,  sadly,  upon  the  pain-contorted  features 
of  the  young  man.  His  own  face  was  pale ;  his 
brown,  sinewy  hand  trembled.  Arising,  he  said  to 
the  savage  band  he  commanded  : 

"Start  a  fire  ;  and  be  quick  about  it ! " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  207 

Then  to  the  Pottawatomie,  whom  Duke  had 
attacked  and  who  was  now  threatening  to  kill  the 
dog,  as  the  animal  lay  whining  at  the  feet  of  his 
senseless  idol  : 

"  You  shall  not  touch  the  dog.  If  you  do,  I'll 
shoot  you  dead  in  your  tracks.  The  brute  did  his 
duty  —  that's  all.  He  was  protecting  the  life  of 
his  defenseless  master.  He  is  a  noble  specimen 
of  his  race.  I  command  you  to  let  him  alone. ' ' 

The  Pottawatomie  sullenly  obeyed.  Bradford 
again  turned  his  attention  to  Douglas. 

"  Poor  boy  !  "  he  murmured  softly  to  himself,  his 
lips  quivering.  ' '  Although  you  hate  me,  and  would 
kill  me  now,  perhaps,  had  you  the  opportunity  —  I 
love  you.  God  knows  I've  wronged  you  enough 
in  the  past.  Yet,  when  you  had  the  chance,  you 
did  not  kill  me.  Would  you  do  it  now  ?  Heaven 
knows  !  Oh !  Why  didn't  you  stay  with  me  ? 
Then  this  would  not  have  occurred.  Now  you  are 
wounded  unto  death  —  dying,  I  fear,  before  my 
eyes.  No  !  you  shall  not  die.  I'll  save  you  —  I 
will !  And  who  has  done  this  monstrous  deed  ?  Is 
it  the  work  of  white  men  or  red  ?  Whichever  it  be, 
they  shall  pay  for  it,  if  I  have  to  follow  them  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  I  vow  it  before  God  !  Shot 
through  the  breast,  there  you  lay  in  the  ice  and 
snow,  until  you  regained  consciousness.  Then  you 
pluckily  made  your  way  here  and  built  a  fire, 
bravely  fighting  against  all  odds.  Somebody  left 
you  for  dead  —  somebody  deserted  you.  But  your 
faithful  dog  stayed  by  you.  I  have  hated  the  brute; 


2o8  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

now  I  could  kiss  his  surly  face.  Yes,  my  boy,  I 
can  read  it  all ;  you  have  left  in  the  snow  a  record 
of  your  desperate  fight  for  life  ! ' ' 

The  strong  man  bowed  his  head.  The  savages, 
engaged  in  building  a  fire  and  preparing  to  cook 
some  meat,  did  not  notice  the  agitation  of  their 
leader.  His  features  worked  spasmodically,  and 
the  scar  upon  his  cheek  twitched  painfully,  as  he 
continued  to  whisper  to  himself  : 

"  God  of  heaven,  tell  me  who  has  done  this  aw- 
ful thing  !  The  snow  has  hidden  all  signs  of  the 
conflict  —  if  conflict  there  was.  It,  also,  covered 
your  trail,  my  boy,  and  I  stumbled  upon  you  by 
chance.  But,  my  God  !  Of  what  am  I  thinking? 
Do  I  mean  to  let  you  die  without  an  effort  to  save 
you?" 

Like  one  electrified,  he  leaped  to  his  feet.  All  his 
emotion  had  vanished.  Once  more  he  was  him- 
self—  the  cool,  firm,  diplomatic  leader  of  savage 
men.  His  ordinarily  husky  voice  rang  out  sharp 
and  clear  as  he  cried  : 

"Listen,  braves!  This  man  is  not  dead  —  he 
must  not  die.  You  have  done  well  —  you  shall 
have  the  gold  I  promised  you.  In  addition,  each 
one  of  you  shall  have  five  pounds,  if  you  do  all  in 
your  power  to  help  me  to  get  him  to  camp  alive. 
Stir  yourselves  !  Cook  your  meat  quickly.  Then 
cut  boughs  and  prepare  a  litter  on  which  to  carry 
him.  Here,  Long  Gun,  assist  me." 

By  this  time  a  huge  fire  was  roaring,  that  ren- 
dered the  cave  warm  and  comfortable.  A  part  of 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  209 

the  company  raked  red  coals  from  their  bed,  and 
upon  them  commenced  to  broil  slices  of  meat  ;  while 
others  began  to  cut  limbs  and  withes,  and  weave 
and  bind  together  a  strong  and  elastic  litter. 

Bradford  seated  himself  and  took  Douglas's  head 
upon  his  lap.  Then  he  produced  a  flask  of  brandy, 
and  with  Long  Gun's  help  succeeded  in  pouring  a 
small  quantity  down  the  unconscious  man's  throat. 
A  second  and  third  time  he  repeated  this,  ere  there 
were  any  signs  of  returning  life.  At  last  the  feeble 
heart  began  to  beat  more  regularly  and  forcibly. 
The  pulse  at  the  wrist  became  perceptible  ;  color 
commenced  to  creep  into  the  marble  face.  A  long- 
drawn  respiration  heaved  the  wounded  chest,  and  a 
low  moan  escaped  from  the  blue  lips.  The  white 
lids  lifted  ;  but  there  was  no  intelligence  in  the 
fever-bright  eyes.  The  wan  demon  of  death  had 
yielded  his  throne  to  the  riotous  imp  of  delirium. 

Bradford  shrunk  back  and  shuddered  as  these 
words  fell  upon  his  ear  : 

"Ah,  Hiram  Bradford,  we've  met  at  last,  in  a 
death-struggle  !  Now  I  have  you  at  my  mercy. 
You  kept  me  a  prisoner  against  my  will  —  you  kept 
me  from  the  woman  I  love.  You  have  wounded 
me  —  starved  me  —  frozen  me.  Now  you  shall 
die  —  die  !  ' ' 

Douglas's  hands  were  clenched  as  though  he  held 
an  enemy  by  the  throat. 

"Ugh!"  ejaculated  Long  Gun.  "The  Great 
Spirit  has  robbed  the  young  paleface  of  his  senses. 
14 


210  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Like  a  dog  dreaming  of  the  chase,  he  fights  in  his 
sleep. ' ' 

The  Shawnee  understood  but  little  Ross  said, 
but  read  aright  the  meaning  of  the  wounded  man's 
tone  of  voice  and  expression  of  countenance. 

' '  Silence  ! ' '  Bradford  commanded  sharply. 

Then,  caressingly  smoothing  the  flushed  face  of 
the  delirious  man,  he  murmured  soothingly  : 

"Don't  fret  yourself.  Your  enemies  are  gone; 
you  are  with  friends  now.  I'll  take  care  of  you." 

' '  Who  are  you  ?  ' ' 

The  bright  eyes  opened  very  wide. 

"Don't,  you  know  me?"  Bradford  asked,  anx- 
iety in  his  tone  and  manner. 

•"  Yes — jTes,  I  know  you,  Joe  Farley.  Of  course 
I  know  my  old  friend.  I  was  sure  you  would  come 
back.  But  where  is  Bright  Wing?  " 

"He'll  be  here  soon,"  answered  Bradford,  sigh- 
ing deeply. 

"And  Duke  —  surely  he  hasn't  deserted  me  — 
where  is  Duke  ?  ' ' 

At  mention  of  his  name,  the  hound  crept  forward 
and  licked  his  master's  hand.  The  dumb  caress  ap- 
peared to  soothe  and  assure  the  sick  man  more 
than  anything  else  could  have  done.  For,  with  a 
sigh  of  contentment,  he  closed  his  eyes  and  whis- 
pered feebly : 

' '  Oh,  yes  !  Duke,  old  fellow,  you  are  still  with  me. 
You'll  not  let  the  Winnebagoes  return  and  scalp  me. 
Watch  over  me,  good  dog,  for  I'm  sleepy — sleepy — ' 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  211 

Then  he  lay  quiet.  But  his  breathing  was  hur- 
ried ;  his  pulse,  bounding ;  and  he  continued  to 
moan  occasionally,  and  mumble  and  babble  words 
that  could  not  be  understood. 

"The  Winnebagoes  !  "  Bradford  muttered,  scowl- 
ing darkly. 

Arising,  he  began  to  hasten  the  preparations  for 
departure.  He  partook  of  the  parched  corn  and 
broiled  venison  the  savages  had  prepared.  After- 
ward he  took  a  small  portion  of  the  tender  meat, 
pressed  its  savory  juices  into  a  drinking  cup,  and 
poured  the  liquid  down  his  patient's  throat.  Order- 
ing the  litter  brought  to  him,  he  stripped  off  his  own 
hunting-shirt  —  unmindful  of  the  chill  atmosphere 
—  and  rolled  it  into  a  pillow  for  Douglas's  head. 
Carefully  and  tenderly  placing  his  charge  upon  the 
springy  bed,  he  covered  him  with  a  ragged,  scarlet 
blanket  which  one  of  the  Pottawatomies  had  worn 
around  his  shoulders ;  and  selecting  four  of  the 
most  stalwart  warriors  and  giving  them  minute  in- 
structions how  to  carry  the  litter,  he  ordered  the 
band  to  start  upon  the  return  journey. 

' '  Do  we  go  back  to  Wildcat  Creek  ? ' '  Long  Gun 
inquired. 

"  No,"  Bradford  answered,  "  we  go  to  the  villages 
of  the  Miamis,  upon  the  Mississinewa. " 

' '  But  are  our  people  there  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,  by  this  time." 

"  Ugh  !  "  was  the  satisfied  rejoinder. 

And  Long  Gun  relapsed  into  his  wonted  silence. 

All   day  long,    the  band  trudged  through    the 


212  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

sheeted  woodland,  stopping  only  at  noon.  The  In- 
dians occasionally  conversed  in  guttural  under- 
tones, but  Scar  Face  maintained  a  moody  silence. 
A  stillness  as  of  death  reigned  in  the  forest,  un- 
broken save  for  the  sharp  rattling  rap  of  a  wood- 
pecker now  and  then,  or  the  startling  whir  of  a 
partridge's  wings. 

Bradford  walked  beside  the  litter  and  looked  after 
the  welfare  of  his  patient.  He  gave  him  frequent 
doses  of  brandy,  and  at  noon  succeeded  in  getting 
him  to  swallow  a  little  shredded  meat.  Douglas 
coughed  almost  continuously,  and  groaned  at  every 
sudden  jolt  of  his  swinging  bed.  A  circular  bright- 
red  spot  appeared  upon  each  cheek,  and  the  arteries 
of  his  temples  and  neck  pulsated  visibly.  The 
wound  he  had  received  and  the  consequent  exposure 
had  done  their  work  but  too  well.  He  was  suffer- 
ing from  pneumonia. 

At  one  time  during  the  afternoon,  he  became  vio- 
lently excited  and  made  repeated  attempts  to  arise 
from  his  couch.  In  vain  Bradford  sought  to  soothe 
and  quiet  him.  Apparently  understanding  the 
need  of  his  presence,  Duke  trotted  to  the  litter  and 
fondly  licked  the  hot  hand  that  was  frantically 
threshing  the  air.  With  a  smile  upon  his  face,  Ross 
lay  back  and  wearily  closed  his  wild,  staring  eyes. 

"Wonderful!"  Bradford  muttered  aloud,  sadly 
shaking  his  head. 

"Wonderful  —  wonderful,"  repeated  the  deliri- 
ous man,  in  a  monotonous,  parrot-like  voice.  Then 
with  animation : 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  213 

"Oh,  Amy!  you  here?  No,  it's  L,a  Violette  — 
or  is  it  Amy  ?  L,a  Violette  —  Amy  ;  I^a  Violette  — 
Amy.  I  don't  know." 

His  words  became  an  unintelligible  jargon  ;  but 
his  fit  of  violence  had  passed. 

At  nightfall  the  Indians  went  into  camp.  Brad- 
ford placed  the  litter  near  the  fire,  and  had  a  screen 
of  boughs  erected  to  shelter  its  occupant  from  the 
night  wind.  Again  he  got  his  patient  to  take  a 
small  portion  of  shredded  meat  and  a  little  of  the 
expressed  juice.  The  supply  of  brandy  was  almost 
exhausted  ;  and  he  wisely  resolved  to  save  what  was 
left  for  an  emergency.  All  night  he  sat  by  Ross's 
side,  giving  him  water,  for  which  the  poor  fellow 
begged  piteously  at  frequent  intervals,  and  protect- 
ing him  as  best  he  could  from  the  cold. 

Duke  fared  well.  Seeing  his  unparalleled  devo- 
tion to  his  master,  the  Indians  took  a  fancy  to  the 
intelligent  animal,  and  fed  him  all  he  would  eat. 

At  daylight  the  wearisome  march  was  resumed  ; 
and  at  noon  the  party  was  drawing  near  the  Miami 
village  upon  the  Mississinewa.  As  they  entered 
the  town,  hundreds  of  savages  swarmed  around 
them,  and  gazed  in  stupefaction  upon  the  unusual 
spectacle  of  four  grave  and  dignified  warriors  bear- 
ing the  litter  of  a  wounded  paleface. 

Pushing  his  way  to  the  center  of  the  village,  a 
large  collection  of  well-built  lodges  and  cabins  upon 
the  eastern  bank  of  the  stream,  Bradford  asked  for 
the  Prophet.  Tenskwatawa's  domicile  was  pointed 
out  to  him.  Unceremoniously  pushing  aside  the 


214  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

curtain  of  skins,  he  entered  the  dark  hut.  The 
Prophet  lay  stretched  upon  a  fur  rug  near  the  cen- 
ter of  the  floor,  his  feet  to  the  fire  that  alone 
lighted  the  dismal  interior.  He  did  not  offer  to 
arise  at  Bradford's  entrance  ;  but  greeted  him  with 
a  grunt  of  recognition.  The  intruder  went  straight 
to  the  point,  by  saying  : 

"  My  prisoner  escaped.  I  have  recaptured  him 
and  brought  him  here.  But  he  is  badly  wounded ; 
and  I  want  the  largest  and  most  comfortable  cabin 
in  the  village,  in  which  I  may  place  him  and  nurse 
him  back  to  life." 

The  Prophet  arose  to  a  sitting  position,  before  re- 
plying. Then  he  made  the  heartless  rejoinder : 

' '  I<et  the  young  paleface  die  !  He  is  a  member  of 
the  Seventeen  Fires  —  he  is  an  enemy.  His  death 
will  subtract  one  more  from  the  number  that  ere 
long  will  appear  against  us,  to  do  battle. ' ' 

"  He  shall  not  die,"  Bradford  returned  firmly. 

"Why?" 

4 '  Because  I  will  not  have  it  so. " 

' '  Why  does  Scar  Face  so  much  desire  to  save  the 
young  man's  life?"  the  Prophet  inquired,  with  a 
cunning  leer. 

' '  Why  I  wish  to  save  his  life  —  why  I  will  save 
his  life  —  concerns  no  one  but  myself,"  was  the  bold 
reply. 

' '  Tenskwatawa,  there  is  no  use  in  our  re-thresh- 
ing old  straw.  I  have  told  you  that  this  young  man 
is  m5T  friend.  I  repeat  it.  You  know  me  well 
enough  to  realize  that  I  will  have  my  way  —  that  I 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  215 

will  not  be  balked  in  whatever  I  undertake.  I^et's 
have  an  end  of  all  parleying.  I  want  the  largest 
and  best  cabin  in  the  place.  Can  I  have  it  ?  " 

"  Scar  Face  asks  for  what  is  not  mine  to  bestow." 

"What  do  you  mean?  Be  qu;ck.  I  have  no 
time  to  waste  in  idle  diplomacy." 

"This  is  the  village  of  the  Miamis,"  was  the 
shrewd  answer.  ' '  The  lodges  are  theirs.  They 
have  granted  my  people  the  privilege  of  staying 
here,  but  we  must  erect  lodges  for  ourselves.  When 
that  is  done,  Scar  Face  shall  have  one  placed  at  his 
disposal." 

Bradford's  anger  was  rising.  His  face  flushed, 
then  paled ;  the  red  scar  upon  his  cheek  quivered 
tremulously  and  twitched  the  corner  of  his  mouth. 
He  nervously  fingered  the  trigger  of  his  rifle  — 
which  he  again  had  in  his  possession  —  as  he  said 
huskily : 

' '  An  end  to  your  lies,  Tenskwatawa !  You  cannot 
deceive  me.  The  Miamis  are  a  part  of  your  family. 
You  are  here  in  one  of  their  cabins.  Tecumseh 
has  another  ;  and  your  braves  are  busily  engaged  in 
erecting  others.  I  want  the  best  one  in  the  village  ; 
and  I  am  going  to  have  it.  Do  you  understand  ?  ' ' 

The  Prophet's  repulsive  face  became  more  repul- 
sive. He  was  angry  —  afraid.  He  bent  his  head  in 
reply,  but  did  not  open  his  lips. 

"  Well,  go  and  give  the  order  !  "  Bradford  roared 
impatiently.  ' '  Hurry !  —  before  I  lose  control  of 
myself  and  stamp  the  life  out  of  your  miserable 
carcass !  " 


216  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Tenskwatawa  slowly  arose.  His  limbs  were 
shaking;  his  lips,  trembling.  The  arrant  coward 
was  desperately  afraid  his  companion  would  carry 
his  threat  into  execution.  And  no  help  was  at 
hand.  When  he  could  command  his  voice,  he  said  : 

"  But  the  best  lodge  has  been  given  to  L,a  Vio- 
lette  and  the  woman  who  attends  her. ' ' 

"  What  of  the  council  lodge?  " 

' '  I  have  made  it  a  temple  of  the  Great  Spirit. 
You  cannot  have  it." 

And  the  Prophet  flung  up  his  head,  with  a  ges- 
ture of  weak  defiance. 

Bradford  was  furious.  He  was  on  the  point  of 
giving  full  sway  to  his  seething  passion,  and  beat- 
ing the  brains  out  of  the  miserable  wretch  before 
him;  but  he  thought  of  the  wounded  man  upon  the 
litter  outside,  and  checked  himself. 

"  Where  is  La  Violette  ?  "  he  hissed  fiercely. 

As  if  in  answer  to  the  question,  the  curtain  of 
skin  was  pushed  aside,  and  the  young  woman 
stepped  into  the  room.  Bradford  turned  at  her  en- 
trance. By  the  dim  light  of  the  flickering  fire,  he 
saw  that  she  was  pale  and  excited. 

"  Hiram  Bradford,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this?  " 
she  cried  sharply. 

He  thought  she  referred  to  his  presence  in  the 
Prophet's  hut,  and  was  attempting  to  frame  a  suit- 
able reply,  when  she  imperiously  stamped  her  little 
foot  and  demanded  : 

"  Answer  me!  Why  have  you  killed  that  young 
man?  And  you  claimed  to  be  his  friend!  " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  217 

' '  Do  you  mean  Ross  Douglas  ?  ' '  Bradford  re- 
turned wonderingly. 

' '  I  mean  Fleet  Foot  —  Ross  Douglas  —  yes. ' ' 

"He's  not  dead,"  Bradford  hastened  to  explain, 
"but  he's " 

"Desperately  wounded,"  she  completed  in  icy 
tones. 

"Yes." 

"Why  did  you  do  it?" 

"  You  wrong  me.     I  didn't  harm  him " 

"No,"  she  interrupted  angrily,  "but  you 
permitted  the  warriors  you  had  with  you  to  shoot 
him,  when  he  was  trying  to  regain  his  liberty.  It 
was  murder  !  For  shame  !  You  are  worse  than  a 
wild  beast  !" 

As  she  finished  speaking,  her  breast  was  heaving 
and  tears  were  in  her  violet  eyes. 

In  a  few  words  Bradford  explained  to  her  what 
had  happened,  and  asked  her  for  the  use  of  the  cabin 
she  occupied.  The  cloud  partially  lifted  from  her 
face,  and  she  answered  quickly  : 

"I  am  glad  that  neither  you,  nor  the  warriors 
under  your  command,  committed  this  awful  deed. 
For  I  have  learned  to  look  upon  you  as  a  brave 
man,  and  merciful  even  to  your  bitterest  enemies." 
—  Bradford  winced  slightly.  —  "  You  can  have  the 
cabin  I  have  occupied,  on  one  condition." 

"  Name  it,"  he  said  promptly. 

"That  I  be  permitted  to  nurse  your  —  your 
friend,  shall  I  say?  —  back  to  health." 

For  a  moment  she  keenly  eyed  him,  to  note  the 


2i8  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

effect  of  her  words.  Then,  seeming  to  realize  that 
she  had  made  an  unusual  proposition,  she  continued 
confusedly  : 

"I  —  I  promised  when  he  saved  my  life,  to  do  all 
in  my  power  to  set  him  free.  I  meant  to  keep  my 
word.  But  his  friends  came  to  his  rescue,  and  he 
regained  his  freedom  without  my  assistance ;  only 
to  lose  it  again.  Now  he  is  in  great  need  of  tender 
care ;  and  I  want  to  repay  him  for  risking  his  life  in 
my  behalf.  I  feel  that  I  am  indebted  to  him.  Do 
you  accept  my  proposal  ?  " 

"Gladly,"  Bradford  answered  quickly,  a  strange 
light  flashing  in  his  blue  eyes.  ' '  Nothing  would 
please  me  more  than  to  have  your  assistance." 

"Then  it  is  settled,"  she  returned  quietly. 
' '  Carry  him  to  the  cabin  at  once.  I  will  come 
soon." 

The  Prophet  witnessed  all  that  passed ;  but  he  of- 
fered no  opposition  to  the  arrangement.  Perhaps 
he  felt  it  would  be  useless  to  do  so. 

After  thanking  the  young  woman,  Bradford 
withdrew  and  had  the  wounded  man  carried  to  the 
place  agreed  upon.  As  he  placed  his  charge  upon 
a  couch  of  soft  furs  and  strove  to  make  him  as  com- 
fortable as  possible,  the  older  man  whispered  to 
himself : 

"Oh,  if  I  can  save  his  life!  If  I  can  save  his 
life!"  Fate  is  playing  into  my  hands.  All  will  yet 
be  well.  I  shall  realize  my  desire.  But  he  might 
die!  Oh,  God!  He  must  not,  he  shall  not !  " 


CHAPTER  X. 

FOR  days  Ross  Douglas  lay  unconscious,  fighting 
all  the  powers  of  fever  and  delirium  —  battling 
for  his  life.  Hiram  Bradford  was  his  constant 
companion  and  nurse.  La  Violette  was  an  able  and 
devoted  assistant. 

On  the  day  following  his  arrival  in  the  village  of 
the  Miamis,  Bradford  procured  from  a  French 
trader  —  who  had  just  come  across  from  Canada  —  a 
quantity  of  brandy,  and  a  few  drugs,  the  uses  of 
which  he  knew.  Armed  with  these,  he  assumed  the 
province  of  physician  and  strove  manfully  to  save 
the  young  man's  life. 

La  Violette  was  unremitting  in  her  tender  care. 
She  prepared  hot  poultices  of  cornmeal  and  dried 
herbs,  which  relieved  the  patient's  distressing 
cough,  and  gave  him  rest,  when  all  other  means 
failed.  Several  times  a  day  she  brought  him  nour- 
ishing broths,  and  coaxed  him  to  drink  them.  Her 
deft  fingers  rearranged  his  bed  of  furs ;  and  her  ca- 
ressing touch  soothed  him  to  slumber.  When 
Bradford  was  snatching  a  few  hours'  sleep  or 
taking  exercise  in  the  open  air,  the  young  woman 
sat  by  the  patient's  couch  —  all  her  soul  in  her 
beautiful  face.  At  such  times  her  countenance  was 
transfigured.  Caressingly  stroking  Douglas's  raven 

(219) 


220  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

locks,  damp  with  the  dews  of  suffering,  she  fixed 
her  violet  eyes  upon  his  dark,  handsome  features 
and  listened  eagerly  to  the  words  that  fell  from  his 
lips.  He  was  delirious  —  there  was  little  sense  to 
his  babble.  It  mattered  not  to  La  Violette ;  she 
loved  to  hear  his  voice. 

When  he  tossed  restively  and  coughed  and  moaned, 
she  patted  his  great  brown  hand  and  spoke  sooth- 
ingly to  him.  And  with  a  smile  flitting  about  his 
mouth,  he  fell  asleep.  Then  with  swift,  timorous 
glances  around  her,  she  bent  and  tenderly  pressed 
her  ripe  lips  to  his  white  brow.  She  was  drinking 
deeply  of  the  rosy,  intoxicating  cup  of  love,  un- 
mindful of  the  lees  at  the  bottom. 

Duke  had  a  place  in  one  corner  of  the  cabin.  At 
times  he  would  leave  his  bed  and,  trotting  to  his 
master's  couch,  would  fondly  lick  his  hand.  Then  he 
would  throw  himself  upon  the  ground  and  intently 
watch  all  that  was  going  on.  The  hound  barely 
tolerated  Bradford's  presence,  and  would  growl 
warningly  whenever  the  latter  attempted  any  play- 
ful familiarity.  But  L,a  Violette  could  take  the 
surly  animal's  head  upon  her  lap,  and  pull  his  pen- 
dulous ears,  with  impunity. 

One  day  Bradford  lay  asleep  upon  a  pile  of  furs, 
in  one  corner  of  the  hut.  L,a  Violette  was  watch- 
ing at  Douglas's  side.  A  violent  fit  of  coughing  as- 
sailed the  patient,  and  he  groaned  aloud.  His  hands 
—  growing  thinner  and  whiter  day  by  day —  clutched 
frantically  at  his  throat.  His  wan,  emaciated 
countenance  was  contorted  by  a  spasm  of  pain. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  221 

Duke  softly  trotted  to  the  young  woman's  side  and, 
dropping  at  her  feet,  beseechingly  looked  up  into 
her  face. 

"Yes  —  yes,  noble  fellow,"  La  Violette  mur- 
mured tearfully,  "  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  him. 
For  "  —  in  the  faintest  whisper  —  ' '  we  love  him  — 
you  and  I!  " 

At  that  moment  Bradford  awoke,  and,  through 
his  half-closed  lids,  dreamily  watched  the  play  be- 
fore him.  He  saw  La  Violette  pat  the  dog's  head 
and  whisper  to  him.  Then  she  turned  her  attention 
to  the  restless  sufferer  —  renewing  the  poultice  upon 
his  chest,  changing  the  position  of  his  head  and 
gently  soothing  him  to  rest,  as  a  mother  would 
quiet  a  fretful  child.  It  was  a  pretty  picture;  and 
Bradford  smiled  a  self-satisfied  smile,  as  he  gazed 
upon  it.  He  was  about  to  close  his  eyes,  in  an  at- 
tempt to  sleep  again,  when  he  observed  La  Violette 
bend  down  and  passionately  kiss  the  unconscious 
man's  lips. 

"  Amy,  Amy!  "  Douglas  mumbled,  his  dry  tongue 
hardly  able  to  shape  the  words.  "Is  it  you, 
Amy  —  and  have  you  come  to  me  at  last?  I've 
wanted  you  so  long  —  so  long!  And  you  are  still 
true  to  me  ?  Say  that  you  are,  Amy.  For  I  dreamed 
—  or  did  someone  tell  me?  —  that  you  were  false — 
false!" 

La  Violette  started  back  as  if  someone  had  dealt 
her  a  sharp  blow.  She  glanced  apprehensively 
toward  Bradford's  couch ;  but  he  appeared  to  be 
sleeping.  Her  beautiful  face  was  colorless ;  her  vio- 


222  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

let  eyes  were  swimming  with  tears.  Bending  over 
her  charge,  she  whispered  faintly  : 

"Who  is  Amy?" 

"Amy,  Amy,"  Douglas  repeated,  parrot-like. 

"  It  is  not  Amy, ' '  she  murmured  tenderly  —  lov- 
ingly. "  It  is  I  —  La  Violette  ;  and  I  love  you  ! ' ' 

"  Ah!  "  the  delirious  man  ejaculated,  and  opened 
his  eyes  very  wide. 

She  started  back.  She  feared  —  yet  hoped  —  he 
had  recognized  her,  understood  her  meaning.  His 
next  words  undeceived  her,  however. 

"You  —  you  cannot  fool  me,"  he  mumbled 
huskily.  "You  are  Amy.  I  —  I  love  you,  Amy 


And  then  he  closed  his  eyes  and  lay  quiet,  the 
movement  of  his  parched  lips  alone  telling  that  he 
was  communing  with  the  phantoms  that  beset  his 
feverish  brain. 

I/a  Violette  bowed  her  golden  head  and  wept  con- 
vulsively. Duke  thrust  his  cold  muzzle  against  her 
hand,  in  token  of  sympathy.  Impulsively  the  girl 
threw  her  arms  around  the  animal's  neck,  and 
hugged  him.  Then  she  again  hid  her  face  and  gave 
way  to  her  acute  grief.  Already  she  was  beginning 
to  taste  the  bitter  dregs  in  the  bottom  of  the  cup  of 
love. 

Bradford  arose,  and,  lightly  moving  to  her  side, 
laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder.  She  sprang  to 
her  feet,  an  exclamation  of  alarm  upon  her  lips. 
When  she  saw  who  it  was  that  confronted  her,  she 
proudly  threw  back  her  head  —  her  eyes  alight  with 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  223 

anger.  Tossing  aside  her  disheveled  hair,  she  cried 
scornfully  : 

' '  Hiram  Bradford,  you  have  been  spying  upon 
me." 

"I  was  awake,"  he  returned  quietly.  "I  saw 
all.  You  love  him." 

Her  face  grew  crimson  —  then  paled. 

' '  And  if  I  do  ?  "  she  said  defiantly. 

"Nothing,"  he  answered,  his  husky  voice  hus- 
kier than  usual.  ' '  I'm  glad  you  do  love  him. 
And — if  he  live  —  he  shall  be  yours.  You  were 
made  for  each  other. ' ' 

"  Do  —  do  you  think  he  is  —  is  going  to  die  ?  "  she 
asked  falteringly. 

' '  No ;  we  two  will  save  him.  He'll  learn  to 
love  you  —  the  lesson  will  not  be  a  hard  one. ' ' 

"  But "  and  she  hesitated. 

"Well?" 

' '  He  loves  another. ' ' 

' '  How  do  you  know  that  ?  ' ' 

"  I  had  it  from  his  own  lips." 

Bradford  playfully  patted  her  cheek — which 
caused  Duke  to  growl  menacingly  —  as  he  replied  : 

"  Pshaw,  little  one!  You  must  give  no  heed  to 
the  vaporings  of  a  delirious  brain.  Wait  until  he's 
himself.  You'll  see  how  easily  you  can  win  his  love. 
He  babbled  of  you  when  I  was  bringing  him  here." 

"Did  he?"  And  a  glad  light  sprang  into  her 
eyes. 

"Yes.  L,eave  everything  to  me.  I've  been 
your  friend  in  the  past ;  I'm  your  friend  now. 


224  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

And  both  of  us  are  his  friends.  Now  go  for  a  walk 
in  the  open  air  —  and  get  some  color  into  your 
cheeks. ' ' 

The  days  and  weeks  dragged  drearily.  Ross 
Douglas  did  not  arise  from  the  depths  of  fever  and 
delirium,  into  which  his  wound  had  plunged  him. 
Daily  he  grew  weaker  and  thinner.  In  spite  of  the 
unremitting  care  of  his  nurses,  he  seemed  slowly 
but  surely  drifting  toward  the  shores  of  the  un- 
known. November  passed;  December  came  —  and 
Christmas  was  drawing  near.  And  still  the  hosts 
of  death  laid  siege  to  the  citadel  of  his  life. 

In  the  meantime,  disaffection  again  arose  in  the 
ranks  of  the  Prophet's  followers.  The  winter  was 
severe  ;  and  food  was  scarce.  Many  of  the  Indians 
drifted  away  from  the  Mississinewa,  in  search  of 
game,  or  returned  to  their  old  homes.  Tecumseh  sat 
in  his  cabin,  moodily  pondering  over  the  condition  of 
affairs.  Yet  had  it  not  been  for  his  presence,  his 
and  his  brother's  followers  would  have  deserted,  to 
a  man.  As  it  was,  only  the  Miamis  and  a  faithful 
few  of  the  various  tribes  remained.  In  the  latter 
part  of  November,  Tenskwatawa  sent  messengers  to 
Fort  Harrison,  to  ask  for  a  share  of  the  annuities 
that  were  being  distributed  to  the  peaceable  sav- 
ages. These  messengers  succeeded  in  deceiving  the 
agent  at  the  post,  and  returned  to  Mississinewa  with 
a  large  amount  of  provisions  and  other  stores. 

About  this  time,  also,  the  English  —  learning  of 
the  Prophet's  defeat  and  misfortunes  —  sent  him  a 
supply  of  arms,  ammunition,  blankets,  and  cooking 


22$ 

utensils.  Bradford  distributed  these  goods  impar- 
tially. 

Toward  the  last  of  December,  the  weather  sud- 
denly grew  warmer  and  game  again  appeared  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  village.  Despondency  and  gloom 
gave  way  to  feasting  and  rejoicing. 

One  morning,  a  few  days  before  Christmas,  La 
Violette  sat  by  Douglas's  couch.  Bradford  had  been 
up  all  night.  Now  he  lay  sleeping  the  sleep  of  ut- 
ter nervous  exhaustion.  The  fire  in  the  middle  of 
the  room  burned  dimly  —  casting  angular  shadows 
upon  the  rough  log  walls.  Outside  the  rain  fell 
drearily.  The  earth  was  water-soaked ;  the  air,  fog- 
laden  and  chilly. 

Nothing  broke  the  stillness  of  the  room,  but  the 
muffled,  sullen  rush  of  the  distant  stream  and  the 
low,  incoherent  mutterings  of  the  restless  patient. 
Uneasily  he  moved  his  head  from  side  to  side,  and 
aimlessly  picked  at  imaginary  objects  in  the  air. 
He  was  the  shadow  of  his  magnificent  self.  His 
hollow,  burning  eyes  were  wide  open  and  staring; 
his  parched  lips,  drawn  apart.  No  color  was  in  his 
face,  except  the  hectic  spots  upon  his  sunken 
cheeks. 

La  Violette  was  pale  and  worn.  As  she  looked 
upon  the  wreck  of  virile  manhood  before  her,  she 
sighed  deeply,  and  despondently  shook  her  head. 

Even  as  she  looked  upon  the  sick  man,  an  abrupt 
change  came  over  him.  His  lips  ceased  to  move  — 
and  gradually  turned  blue;  his  teeth  set  themselves 
with  a  sharp  click.  The  hectic  spots  upon  his 

15 


226  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

cheeks  faded,  leaving  his  face  of  marble  whiteness; 
and  an  icy  sweat  bathed  his  brow  and  temples.  A 
rigor  shook  his  emaciated  form  from  head  to  foot; 
his  breathing  became  irregular. 

I^a  Violette  caught  his  hand  in  hers,  and  found 
it  cold  and  clammy.  Springing  to  her  feet,  she  ran 
to  Bradford  and  aroused  him.  He  was  wide  awake 
in  an  instant. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  inquired  anxiously. 

' '  He  —  is  —  dying  !  " 

The  words  fell  like  leaden  balls.  Bradford  felt 
each  of  them  strike  his  heart.  The  girl's  face  wore 
a  horrified  expression.  Without  waiting  to  hear 
more,  Bradford  ran  to  his  patient's  bedside.  After 
a  hurried  examination  he  announced  : 

"  The  crisis  has  arrived  !  He's  not  dying  —  we 
can  yet  save  him.  Don't  get  excited  —  don't  lose 
your  head.  Roll  that  hot  stone  in  a  blanket,  and 
place  it  to  his  feet.  That's  right  —  you're  as 
steady  as  a  clock.  Heat  another  blanket  to  wrap 
around  him.  Have  no  fear  —  we  shall  save  him. 
Now  get  me  the  flask  of  brandy  and  the  small  white 
powders  that  are  in  the  pocket  of  my  hunting- 
shirt.  What  a  brave  little  woman  you  are  !  " 

Her  hands  were  shaking  like  aspen  leaves  ;  but 
she  obeyed  his  orders.  When  the  medicines  were 
in  his  possession,  Bradford  poured  out  a  quantity 
of  the  fiery  liquid  and  dropped  into  it  the  white 
powder.  Then  quickly  mixing  the  two,  he  forcibly 
poured  the  whole  down  the  dying  man's  throat. 

Silently  he  watched  for  the  effects  of  the  power- 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  227 

ful  draught.  They  were  not  long  in  showing 
themselves.  The  rigor  passed  ;  and  a  warm  glow 
suffused  the  patient's  neck  and  face,  and  rose  to  his 
temples.  Pulse  and  respiration  gradually  grew 
steadier  —  stronger ;  and  feet  and  hands  regained 
their  accustomed  warmth.  A  natural  moisture 
overspread  the  body.  And  the  sick  man  sank  into 
a  deep,  dreamless  sleep. 

For  an  hour  the  two  nurses  sat  by  Ross's  side  — 
neither  speaking  a  word.  At  last  Bradford  yawned 
and  remarked : 

' '  He's  all  right  now,  little  girl.  The  worst  is 
over.  I'm  going  to  finish  my  nap.  Don't  dis- 
turb him  —  let  him  sleep  as  long  as  he  will.  When 
he  awakes  he'll  be  conscious.  Call  me,  if  he 
rouses  before  I  do.  Be  brave  a  little  longer ;  and  all 
will  be  well." 

For  hours  the  two  men  slept.  L,a  Violette 
scarcely  dared  to  breathe,  for  fear  of  waking  her 
charge.  Noon  came.  Bradford  arose,  and,  ap- 
proaching the  couch,  closely  inspected  the  sleeper. 

"He's  doing  nicely,"  he  said.  Then  noting  L,a 
Violette' s  pallid  face  : 

' '  Come  —  you  must  get  out  of  here.  I  don't 
care  to  take  charge  of  another  patient  just  now.  I 
never  did  like  the  practice  of  the  profession.  Take 
a  turn  in  the  open  air  —  and  get  something  to  eat 
while  you're  gone." 

But  she  resolutely  shook  her  head,  as  she  re- 
plied : 

' '  I  will  stay  by  him  until  he  awakes.  You  go  — 
you  need  air  and  exercise  more  than  I." 


228  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  You'll  go  when  I  return  ?  "  he  asked. 

"If  he  be  awake  —  yes. ' ' 

Bradford  smiled  to  himself,  as  he  passed  through 
the  door,  murmuring : 

' '  I  know  your  desire,  my  sweet  maid.  You  want 
your  face  to  be  the  first  he  shall  see  when  he  re- 
gains consciousness —  your  voice  to  be  the  first  he 
shall  hear.  Ah!  L,ove  may  make  cowards  of  men; 
but  it  makes  angels  of  women. ' ' 

After  Bradford  left  the  cabin,  I^a  Violette 
kneeled  upon  the  bare  ground  at  the  sleeping  man's 
side  and  gazed  long  and  earnestly  into  his  face, 
moving  her  lips  as  though  in  prayer.  Then  she 
timidly  took  his  thin  hand  between  her  soft  palms 
and  kissed  it  gently  —  reverently,  again  and  again. 
At  last  he  stirred  and  opened  his  eyes.  The  blank 
stare  of  delirium  was  gone  ;  there  was  intelligence 
in  the  look  he  fastened  upon  her.  Embarrassed, 
she  dropped  his  hand  and  drew  herself  erect,  her 
face  aflame.  His  lips  moved  ;  and  she  caught  the 
faint  whisper : 

"La  Violette." 

She  nodded,  but  placed  her  finger  upon  her  lips, 
in  token  of  silence. 

"  Where  am  I?  "  he  persisted. 

"With  friends,"  she  answered  feelingly.  "But 
you  are  very  weak  ;  you  must  not  talk." 

Unheeding  her  words,  he  went  on  in  a  feeble, 
whispering  tone : 

"  I'm  so  helpless.     Have  I  been  very  ill  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  you  have  been  very  ill.  Please  do  not  try 
to  talk  ;  the  effort  will  hurt  you. ' ' 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  229 

Leaving  his  side,  she  brought  a  cup  of  gruel  from 
the  fire  —  where  it  had  been  warming  upon  the 
coals  —  and  insisted  that  he  drink  it.  L,ike  a  fret- 
ful child,  he  pushed  it  aside  and  whimpered  : 

' '  Answer  my  questions  —  answer  my  questions  !  " 

Seeing  that  he  was  growing  excited,  she  said 
soothingly : 

' '  Drink  this  for  me,  and  I  will  answer  your 
questions.  Take  it  all — that's  right.  Now,  what 
do  you  want  to  know  ?  ' ' 

"  Where  am  I— at  Wildcat  Creek?" 

' '  No  ;  you  are  at  the  village  of  the  Miamis,  upon 
the  Mississinewa." 

' '  Who  brought  me  here  ?  " 

"Hiram  Bradford." 

"Bradford?  Ah,  yes!  I  remember  now.  I 
was  wounded  by  the  Winnebagoes.  My  compan- 
ions left  me,  thinking  I  was  dead.  How  long  have 
I  been  here  —  several  days  ?  " 

' '  Several  weeks. ' ' 

' '  So  long  !     Who  has  taken  care  of  —  of — me  ?  " 

He  was  panting  for  breath.  Noting  which,  she 
answered  kindly  but  firmly  : 

"Bradford  has  taken  care  of  you.  But  you 
must  talk  no  more  —  you  are  too  weak.  Close  your 
eyes  and  try  to  sleep. ' ' 

' '  And  you  have  —  helped  to  nurse  —  me, ' '  he 
went  on  brokenly.  "I  know  —  you  have.  I  was 
dimly  —  dimly  conscious  of  your  presence.  But  I 
thought  you  were  —  were " 

"You   must   talk   no   more,"  she  sternly   inter- 


23o  THE  SIGN  OF    THE  PROPHET 

rupted.  ' '  If  you  do  not  obey  me,  I  will  leave  you 
here  alone. ' ' 

A  feeble,  flickering-  smile  for  one  brief  moment 
illuminated  his  ghastly  features.  Then  it  was  gone, 
and  he  murmured  faintly  : 

"  No,  don't  leave  me.     I'll  obey  you." 

And  obediently  he  closed  his  eyes,  and  was  soon 
fast  asleep. 

A  few  minutes  later  Bradford  returned. 

"Still  sleeping?"  he  inquired  softly,  gazing  into 
the  upturned  face. 

"He  has  been  awake,"  I^a  Violette  answered 
quietly. 

' '  Ah  !     And  he  recognized  you  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

' '  Did  he  ask  you  any  questions  ? ' ' 

' '  He  wanted  to  know  where  he  was,  who  had 
brought  him  here,  and  who  nursed  him." 

' '  You  answered  his  questions  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  then?" 

' '  I  gave  him  some  gruel  and  commanded  him  to 
go  to  sleep." 

"And  he  obeyed  you.  I  couldn't  have  done 
better  myself.  Now  you  must  keep  the  promise 
you  made  me.  Take  a  short  walk  ;  then  eat  some- 
thing and  seek  the  rest  you  so  much  need.  I  don't 
want  to  see  you  back  here  until  tomorrow  morning. 
Come  —  you  must  do  as  I  say. ' ' 

Listlessly,  pathetically,  L,a  Violette  left  the  cabin  ; 
and  Bradford  took  her  place  by  Douglas's  couch. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  231 

Ross  improved  very  slowly.  It  was  the  first  of 
February  before  he  could  totter  across  the  room 
and  take  a  peep  at  the  outer  world.  He  was 
greatly  reduced  in  flesh  and  strength  ;  he  was  nerv- 
ous and  irritable.  His  muscles  were  soft,  his 
buoyant  disposition  was  gone,  and  his  mind  seemed 
feeble  and  apathetic.  Bradford  and  I,a  Violette 
did  all  they  could  to  cheer  and  encourage  him  — 
but  in  vain.  lyike  a  water-logged  vessel,  he  drifted 
this  way  and  that  in  the  eddy  of  conflicting 
emotions  —  and  made  little  progress  toward  the 
haven  of  health. 

Out  of  patience,  at  last,  Bradford  said  to  him  : 

"  lyook  here,  young  man  !  Do  you  want  to  get 
well  ?  If  you  do,  you've  got  to  rouse  yourself. 
Shake  off  your  lethargy  and  be  a  man.  You're 
acting  the  baby.  I'm  ashamed  of  you." 

Ross  proudly  straightened  his  thin  form.  His 
nostrils  dilated  and  quivered.  Something  like  his 
old  self-reliance  flashed  in  his  hollow  eyes,  as  he 
cried  in  piping  tones  : 

"Hiram  Bradford,  you're  very  brave  now;  you 
insult  a  man  who  is  too  weak  to  give  you  the  drub- 
bing your  words  merit.  You've  forgotten  that  I 
defeated  you  in  a  fair  contest  of  strength  and  skill 
• —  when  I  was  myself.  Yes,  I  will  rouse  myself ; 
I  will  try  to  recover  my  health  —  if  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  make  you  eat  your  words  ! ' ' 

A  spasm  of  pain  contorted  Bradford's  scarred 
face.  But  quickly  recovering  his  equanimity,  he 
chuckled  huskily  : 


7.3 2  THE  SIGN   OF   THE  PROPHET 

"That's  it  —  get  angry  at  me.  I  thought  I 
could  stir  you.  You  feel  better  already,  don't 
you?" 

Douglas  earnestly  scanned  the  speaker's  face  for 
a  full  minute.  Bradford  burst  out  laughing.  With 
a  sheepish  grin,  the  younger  man  said  : 

' '  I  understand  you  now.  Your  words  and 
actions  are  a  part  of  your  plan  of  treatment,  eh  ? 
Well,  I'll  shake  off  my  lethargy  —  if  I  can.  I'll  be 
a  man,  and  strive  to  recover  my  health  and  strength. 
I  am  ashamed  of  myself.  Please  forgive  my  child- 
ish petulance.  Here  is  my  hand." 

The  two  shook  hands,  silently  —  solemnly.  Then 
Douglas  continued  : 

' '  Twice  you  have  saved  my  life,  Bradford.  I  am 
grateful  —  I  don't  hate  you  as  I  did.  I  may  as 
well  confess  that  I  rather  like  you —  that  I  feel  you 
are  my  friend.  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  un- 
remitting and  tender  care.  Yet  I  cannot  under- 
stand why  you  keep  me  a  prisoner.  And  here  I 
give  you  fair  warning:  As  soon  as  I'm  able,  I'll 
again  try  to  escape." 

A  smile  almost  beatific  lighted  the  elder  man's 
marred  visage,  as  he  replied  feelingly : 

' '  I  am  your  friend  ;  and  I  am  delighted  to  know 
you  begin  to  realize  it.  Please  say  again  that  you 
don't  hate  me." 

"  I  don't  hate  you,"  Ross  said  quietly. 

"And  you  wouldn't  harm  me,  if  you  could?" 

"No— unless " 

"Unless  what?" 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  233 

"  Unless  you  should  offer  injury  to  me  or  some 
one  dear  to  me." 

"Which  I'll  never  do,"  Bradford  answered 
earnestly.  "  Now  we  understand  each  other. 
You're  to  try  to  get  well ;  I'm  to  help  you.  You're 
going  to  try  to  escape;  I'm  going  to  try  to  prevent 
you  from  succeeding.  Have  I  stated  the  case  cor- 
rectly?" 

' '  Yes, ' '  Douglas  returned  smilingly. 

"Very  well.  Now  you'd  better  lie  down  and 
take  a  nap.  You're  tired." 

From  that  day,  Ross  began  to  improve  more 
rapidly.  His  cough  gradually  subsided  ;  his  appe- 
tite grew  better.  He  commenced  to  regain  strength 
and  flesh.  But  the  lancinating  pain  was  still  in  his 
chest  ;  and  it  took  but  little  exercise  or  excitement 
to  exhaust  him.  Then,  too,  his  mind  was  per- 
turbed. The  stronger  he  grew,  the  more  he  chafed 
under  the  yoke  of  captivity.  He  worried  about 
Amy.  He  thought  of  her  by  day,  and  dreamed  of 
her  by  night.  Was  she  alive  —  was  she  well  ?  Was 
she  grieving  over  his  supposed  death,  or  was  she 
wholly  unaware  of  the  misfortunes  that  had  be- 
fallen him  ? 

"If  I  only  knew!"  he  would  groan  in  his  an- 
guish. ' '  Did  Bright  Wing  and  Joe  escape  and 
return  to  Franklinton  ?  If  they  did,  have  they  told 
all  they  knew?  And,  thinking  me  dead,  she  may 
have  married  George  Hilliard  !  " 

Then,  in  his  excitement,  he  would  stride  up  and 
down  the  room,  until  he  was  in  a  state  of  nervous 


234  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

collapse  and  compelled  to  seek  his  bed,  to  lie  fretting 
and  planning  until  sleep  came  to  his  relief. 

Bradford  noticed  that  his  patient  was  always 
worse  after  being  left  to  himself  for  a  short  time, 
and  shrewdly  suspected  the  cause.  He  spoke  to  La 
Violette  about  the  matter ;  and  they  decided  that 
one  or  the  other  of  them  would  be  with  Ross  con- 
stantly. 

As  spring  approached,  the  weather  grew  milder. 
On  fine,  warm  days,  Douglas  and  Duke  —  always 
accompanied  by  Bradford  or  L,a  Violette  —  took  short 
strolls  through  the  village.  But  on  wet,  cold  days, 
he  was  compelled  to  crouch  by  the  fire  in  his  miser- 
able cabin,  a  prey  to  his  own  gloomy  thoughts.  It 
was  on  such  occasions  that  L,a  Violette  came  as  a 
ministering  angel  to  cheer  and  comfort  him.  She 
talked  to  him,  sang  to  him,  read  to  him  —  her  heart 
upon  her  sleeve,  her  soul  in  her  beautiful  eyes.  But 
he  was  blind  —  he  saw  nothing.  To  him  she  was  a 
fair,  lovable  child  —  unused  to  the  ways  of  the 
world.  She  talked  to  him  ;  he  heard  only  her  words, 
and  gave  no  heed  to  the  tender  inflection  of  her 
voice.  She  sang  quaint  little  love  ballads  to  him; 
he  closed  his  eyes  and  listened  dreamily  to  her  bird- 
like  notes  —  scarcely  noticing  the  sentiment  of  the 
song.  She  read  to  him  from  two  or  three  old  French 
books,  tales  of  love  and  chivalry ;  but  he  took  the 
stories  for  what  they  were  worth  —  and  lost  sight  of 
the  reader.  He  noticed  her  marked  preference  for 
his  society  ;  but  thought  only  that  she  desired  to 
amuse  him  —  to  be  amused  herself.  He  looked  upon 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  235 

her  and  pronounced  her  very  beautiful  ;  he  thor- 
oughly enjoyed  her  society.  He  was  interested  in 
her,  and  wondered  who  and  what  she  was.  He  re- 
spected her,  pitied  her,  felt  grateful  for  what  she 
had  done  for  him.  He  would  have  fought  for  her 
—  died  for  her.  But  did  he  love  her  —  did  she  love 
him  ?  He  never  asked  himself  the  questions.  Per- 
haps he  did  not  dare  to  do  so — perhaps  he  was  will- 
fully blind.  At  any  rate,  he  was  true  as  steel  to 
Amy  Larkin. 

One  day  when  La  Violette  had  been  reading  to 
him  for  some  time,  she  stopped  suddenly  and,  clos- 
ing her  book,  remarked  naively  : 

' '  You  are  not  interested  in  what  I  have  been 
reading.  Do  you  want  me  to  sing  to  you,  or  talk 
to  you  ?  ' ' 

' '  Talk  to  me,  please. ' ' 

"  Of  what  or  whom  ?  " 

' '  Of  yourself. ' ' 

"  Of  myself?"  —  in  pleased  surprise.  It  was  the 
first  time  he  had  manifested  so  great  an  interest  in 
her. 

' '  Yes,  of  yourself, ' '  he  repeated. 

"  But  there  is  so  little  to  tell,"  she  objected. 

"There  is  much  I'd  like  to  know,"  he  said 
earnestly.  ' '  May  I  ask  you  some  pointed  questions?  " 

He  lay  upon  a  fur  rug  at  her  feet.  As  he  turned 
to  look  at  her,  their  eyes  met.  He  unflinchingly 
met  her  ardent  gaze ;  she  dropped  her  white  lids  and 
blushed.  Then  recovering  herself  she  answered 
composedly : 


236  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"You  may  ask  me  any  questions  you  choose." 

' '  And  will  you  answer  them  ?  ' ' 

"I  will." 

For  the  moment  he  was  disconcerted.  He  had 
expected  her  to  refuse  his  request.  However,  he 
said : 

"  How  long  have  you  been  among  the  Indians  ?  " 

"Among  the  Indians?" — in  well-feigned  sur- 
prise.—  "  I  am  an  Indian." 

Her  eyes  were  dancing  mischievously. 

' '  You  are  not  a  savage, "  he  replied  coldly.  ' '  You 
can't  deceive  me." 

"  I  am  not  a  savage — but  I  am  an  Indian,  surely. 
Tenskwatawa  is  my  father." 

And  she  laughed  merrily. 

' '  Why  do  you  tell  me  that  ?  Do  you  expect  me 
to  believe  so  palpable  a  falsehood  ?  ' ' 

Instantly  her  mood  changed.  Her  lips  trembled 
and  unshed  tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  as  she  answered 
sadly  : 

"  Because  it  is  all  I  know  to  tell.  My  earliest 
recollection  is  of  playing  among  the  children  of  the 
Shawnees.  Tenskwatawa  was  pointed  out  to  me 
as  my  father.  From  that  day  until  I  was  ten  years 
old  — as  nearly  as  I  know  my  age  —  I  was  under  his 
charge.  During  all  that  time  the  aged  Indian 
woman,  who  is  my  attendant  now,  ministered  to 
my  childish  needs  and  wants  —  was  all  the  mother  I 
ever  knew.  At  the  age  of  ten  I  was  an  uncouth 
little  savage.  I  went  with  the  tribe  from  one  camp 
to  another.  I  knew  no  other  life  —  I  cared  for 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  237 

naught  but  the  companionship  of  my  savage 
friends " 

"  How  similar  to  my  own  experience  !  "  he  mut- 
tered. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

"  Pardon  my  interruption,"  he  replied.  "  Please 
go  on  with  your  story." 

' '  When  I  was  ten  years  old,  we  were  encamped 
upon  the  Maumee.  There  it  was  that  I  first  saw 
Hiram  Bradford  — so  far  as  I  know.  It  was  in  the 
autumn  when  he  came  among  us.  He  appeared  to 
have  great  influence  with  my  father,  Tenskwatawa. 
One  day  I  overheard  the  two  talking  —  or  quarrel- 
ing, rather.  Both  were  very  angry.  I  heard  my 
name  mentioned  ;  and  with  childish  intuition  I  knew 
that  some  calamity  threatened  me.  I  ran  and  hid  ; 
but  shortly  my  father  found  me,  and  told  me  I  was 
to  leave  the  tribe  and  accompany  Scar  Face  —  that 
is  the  name  Bradford  bears  among  the  Indians.  I 
remember  I  cried  bitterly  and  clung  to  Crane  Bill, 
my  nurse.  But  Bradford  took  me  in  his  arms  and 
bore  me  away.  He  took  me  to  Quebec  and  placed 
me  in  charge  of  some  French  women,  who  taught  a 
mission  school.  There  I  remained  six  years  —  and 
there  I  received  the  little  education  I  possess.  Two 
years  ago  he  took  me  from  my  good  friends  —  whom 
I  had  learned  to  love  dearly  —  and  brought  me  back 
to  the  tribe." 

She  stopped  abruptly,  her  breast  heaving. 

"  Go  on,"  Ross  said  gently. 


238  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

' '  There  is  no  more  to  tell, ' '  was  the  half- whis- 
pered reply. 

"That's  all  you  know  of  yourself?  " 

"  It  is  "—  nodding. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  Bradford's  history  ?  " 

"Nothing." 

"  You  are  eighteen  years  old  ?  " 

"As  nearly  as  I  know." 

"And  you  know  nothing  of  your  people  ?" 

"  You  are  among  them." 

"You  mean  these  dirty,  idle  savages?" 

' '  Yes.  They  are  all  the  friends  I  have  ever 
known,  except  Bradford,  the  teachers  and  pupils  at 
the  mission  school  —  and  yourself. ' ' 

"You  haven't  the  faintest  recollection  of  your 
parents  —  your  childhood  home  ?  "  he  persisted. 

1 '  Sometimes,"  she  answered  chokingly,  ' '  I  dream 
of  lying  as  a  babe  in  the  arms  of  a  fair-haired,  blue- 
eyed  woman,  and  seeing  her  smile  down  at  me. 
But  that  is  all  —  it  is  but  a  dream." 

' '  Has  Tenskwatawa  always  been  kind  to  you  ? ' ' 

"  Kind  and  deferential." 

"  But  you  know — you  feel — that  he  isn't  your 
father?" 

For  a  few  seconds  she  was  silent.  Then  she  said  : 

' '  The  tribe  believes  he  is  my  father  —  that  I  am 
a  gift  from  the  Great  Spirit.  Crane  Bill,  my  old 
nurse,  told  me  one  time  that  Tenskwatawa  found 
me  in  the  forest,  where  the  Great  Spirit  had  placed 
me.  That  is  all  I  know." 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  239 

"  Have  you  never  questioned  Tenskwatawa?  " 

"I  have." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

' '  He  said  that  what  the  tribe  believes  is  true  — 
and  would  say  no  more. ' ' 

"And  Bradford?" 

' '  He  patted  my  cheek  and  told  me  to  be  patient 
—  that  one  day  I  should  know  all." 

' '  Nothing  more  ? ' ' 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  He  has  always  treated  you  kindly  —  respect- 
fully?" 

"Always." 

"  And  you  like  him  ?" 

"I  do." 

' '  Better  than  you  like  me  ?  ' ' 

He  asked  the  question  innocently  — playfully,  as 
he  would  have  put  it  to  a  child,  expecting  her  to 
answer  in  the  same  spirit.  But  she  did  nothing  of 
the  kind.  Instead,  she  placed  her  hand  upon  his 
and  began  passionately : 

"Fleet  Foot,  you  will  never  know " 

Then  she  suddenly  checked  herself,  and,  hiding 
her  face,  burst  into  tears. 

Douglas  was  surprised  —  horrified.  For  the  first 
time,  he  had  an  inkling  of  the  truth.  He  did  not 
know  what  to  do  —  what  to  say.  Her  disheveled, 
red-gold  hair,  her  beaded  dress  of  bright-colored 
cloth,  her  slender  form  shaking  with  sobs  —  all  gave 
her  the  appearance  of  a  grieved  child.  The  tempta- 
tion assailed  him  to  take  her  in  his  arms,  kiss  away 


240  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

her  tears,  and  tell  her  he  loved  her.  But  Amy 
Larkin's  face  arose  before  him  ;  and  condemning 
himself  for  a  weakling,  he  set  his  teeth  and  regained 
control  of  himself.  When  he  felt  equal  to  the  task, 
he  gently  but  firmly  removed  her  hands  from  her 
face  and  said  : 

"There  —  you  mustn't  cry  anymore.  I  don't 
doubt  your  friendship." — He  accented  the  word. — 
"You've  been  very  kind  to  me;  and  I  appreciate 
all  you  have  done.  Now,  if  you'll  listen,  I'll 
tell  you  the  story  of  my  life,  in  return  for  what  you 
have  told  me  of  yours.  Are  you  ready  to  hear 
me?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  in  an  almost  inaudible  tone, 
as  she  dried  her  eyes  and  sought  to  compose  her 
features. 

Unheeding  her  evident  embarrassment,  and  the 
dry  sobs  that  at  intervals  shook  her  willowy  form, 
he  proceeded  to  tell  her  of  himself.  She  listened 
with  rapt  attention.  When  he  had  finished  his 
narrative,  he  said : 

' '  You  see,  L/a  Violette,  there  is  great  similarity 
in  our  experiences. ' ' 

"Yes,"  she  murmured  softly. 

"The  knowledge  should  make  us  closer  friends." 

He  laid  stress  upon  the  word  friends. 

' '  I  cannot  be  a  better  friend  to  you  than  I  have 
been — than  I  have  tried  to  be,  at  least,"  she  replied 
tremulously. 

Then  she  arose  and  darted  from  the  room. 

When  he  had  recovered  from  the   surprise  her 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  241 

sudden   departure  had  caused    him,   he    muttered 
gloomily  : 

"Am  I  an  egotistical  fool,  or  has  she  —  untutored 
in  the  ways  of  the  world  —  shown  me  her  woman's 
heart  ?  I  pity  her  —  her  lot  is  a  sad  one.  Who  is 
she  ?  No  matter  ;  I  mustn't  wrong  her.  She's 
innocence  itself.  A  child  —  a  mere  child  !  Yet  a 
woman  with  a  woman's  heart  !  She  is  beautiful  — 
lovable.  A  wild  flower  —  a  violet.  A  face  and  form 
to  charm  an  artist !  If  it  were  not  for  —  Bah  !  Of 
what  am  I  thinking  ?  Oh,  that  I  were  my  old  self 
—  that  I  might  escape  from  this  hateful  place  and 
return  to  the  little  woman  who  is  grieving  over  my 
prolonged  absence  !  " 

Contracting  his  brows,  he  strode  to  the  door  and 
looked  out  at  the  falling  rain. 
16 


CHAPTER  XI. 

sprightly  month  of  April  brought  sunny 
days  and  warm  showers,  opening  buds  and 
singing  birds. 

Ross  Douglas  had  almost  recovered  his  wonted 
health  and  strength.  A  slight  twinge  of  pain  in  his 
chest,  at  times,  and  a  little  shortness  of  breath,  on 
exercise,  alone  remained  to  remind  him  of  his 
tedious  illness. 

He  wandered  about  the  village  at  will ;  but  he 
was  unarmed,  and  dozens  of  watchful  eyes  were 
upon  him.  He  saw  no  chance  of  escape.  At  night 
Bradford  occupied  the  cabin  with  him,  never  leav- 
ing him  alone. 

Frequently  he  met  I/a  Violette  and  tried  to  talk 
with  her ;  but  she  was  shy  and  reserved,  and  had 
little  to  say.  He  fancied  that  she  avoided  him  — 
and  it  piqued  him.  Man-like  he  could  not  under- 
stand that  she  was  trying  to  conquer  her  love  for 
him;  and  he  sought  to  re-establish  their  familiar 
companionship.  His  influence  over  her  was  such  — 
she  loved  him  so  —  that  he  succeeded.  She  could 
not  resist  his  magnetic  power.  And  with  the  true 
abandon  of  a  simple,  passionate  child  of  the  forest, 
she  again  drank  of  the  intoxicating  cup  of  love  — 
and  for  the  time  was  happy  —  in  paradise. 

Ross,  also,  became  more  cheerful.     Perhaps  he 
(242) 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  243 

had  missed  her  companionship  more  than  he  would 
own  —  more  than  he  knew.  At  any  rate  he  was 
happier  when  she  was  at  his  side  —  when  her  violet 
eyes  looked  trustingly  into  his  own  gray  ones,  and 
her  artless  prattle  fell  upon  his  ear. 

One  day  in  the  early  part  of  the  month,  Bradford 
entered  the  hut  and  remarked : 

' '  Douglas,  I  have  your  gun  here  —  the  one  I  took 
from  you  at  Wildcat  Creek.  Do  you  want  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  Ross  replied  with  animation. 

' '  You  can  have  it  —  and  this  pouch  of  ammuni- 
tion —  on  one  condition. ' ' 

"Name  it." 

"That  you  don't  try  to  escape  again." 

"  I  won't  try  to  escape  —  for  the  present." 

"That's  rather  indefinite,"  laughed  the  older 
man.  "Explain." 

' '  When  I  have  determined  to  make  another  at- 
tempt, I'll  apprise  you  of  the  fact.  Is  that  satis- 
factory?" 

"Perfectly.  Here's  your  gun.  I  think  a  little 
tramping  about  the  woods  will  do  you  good.  At 
least,  it  will  help  you  to  pass  the  time.  You  may  go 
out  with  the  Indians  or  by  yourself,  as  you  please. 
You  have  given  me  your  word  —  I  can  trust  you." 

Having  his  trusty  rifle  again  in  his  possession, 
Douglas  felt  more  like  a  man  —  less  like  a  prisoner. 
Every  day,  almost,  he  took  a  long  jaunt  through  the 
woods  adjacent  to  the  village,  his  weapon  upon  his 
shoulder.  His  object  was  twofold.  He  desired  to 
toughen  his  muscles  and  regain  his  old  powers  of 


244  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

endurance,  and  to  become  acquainted  with  the  topog- 
raphy of  the  surrounding  country.  For  he  meant 
to  make  another  desperate  effort  to  escape,  as  soon 
as  he  felt  equal  to  the  task. 

April  gave  place  to  May.  The  trees  were  in  full 
leaf  ;  the  wild  flowers,  in  full  bloom.  The  air  was 
warm  and  fragrant ;  and  the  birds  sang  all  day  long, 
in  the  dark,  cool  woodland. 

Ross  was  now  completely  recovered  from  the 
effects  of  his  wound,  and  ready  for  the  project  upon 
which  his  heart  was  set.  But  he  was  in  a  quandary. 
He  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  break  his  prom- 
ise to  Bradford  ;  yet  he  feared  the  result  of  making 
known  his  intentions.  Would  not  his  rifle  again  be 
taken  from  him  and  himself  be  confined  and 
guarded  as  at  Wildcat  Creek?  While  he  debated 
the  question,  the  sunshiny  days  sped  swiftly  by. 

About  the  middle  of  the  month,  a  council  of 
twelve  tribes  was  held  at  the  Miami  village.  Ring- 
ing speeches  were  made  by  various  chiefs.  Each 
tribe  sought  to  lay  the  blame  of  the  battle  of  Tippe- 
canoe  and  its  results  upon  the  other.  Much  bad 
feeling  existed.  Tecumseh  made  an  effort  to  recon- 
cile and  reunite  the  tribes  of  his  confederacy,  but 
failed.  The  council  was  a  fiasco  —  so  far  as  the 
great  chief's  desires  and  intentions  were  concerned. 
After  indulging  in  mutual  recriminations,  and  ex- 
pressing themselves  as  being  desirous  of  living  at 
peace  with  the  Americans,  the  members  of  the 
council  took  their  departure  —  and  the  farce  was  at 
an  end. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  245 

A  number  of  white  men  were  present,  as  specta- 
tors, at  the  council.  But  Bradford  kept  a  close 
watch  upon  his  prisoner  ;  and  the  latter  got  no 
opportunity  to  communicate  with  the  visitors. 
Whether  they  were  Americans,  or  British  subjects 
from  across  the  lakes,  Douglas  could  not  ascertain. 

About  the  first  of  June,  Tecumseh,  accompanied 
by  a  number  of  warriors,  went  to  Fort  Wayne  and 
demanded  ammunition.  He  was  very  haughty,  and 
firm  in  his  old  opinions  and  intentions.  The  agent 
sought  to  induce  him  to  remain  at  peace  with  the 
United  States,  but  refused  to  give  him  ammunition. 

Tecumseh  made  answer : 

' '  My  British  father  will  not  refuse  my  request. 
To  him  I  will  go." 

And  giving  a  defiant  war-whoop,  he  disappeared 
in  the  adjacent  woods. 

He  went  immediately  to  Maiden,  where  he  joined 
the  English. 

A  short  time  after  Tecumseh 's  departure  for  Can- 
ada, an  Indian  runner  arrived  in  the  Mississinewa 
village.  He  brought  the  news  that  what  had  been 
expected  long,  had  happened  at  last  —  that  war  had 
been  declared  between  the  United  States  and  Great 
Britain,  and  that  both  nations  were  making  prepa- 
rations for  a  final  struggle  for  supremacy  upon  the 
border.  This  intelligence  greatly  pleased  Tensk- 
watawa  and  his  braves.  They  saw  a  chance  for 
scalps  and  plunder  —  and  promptly  resolved  to  join 
the  British.  The  night  of  the  messenger's  arrival 
was  spent  in  feasting  and  rejoicing.  Speeches  were 


246  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

made,  and  war-songs  were  chanted.  When  morn- 
ing dawned,  numbers  of  the  warriors  at  once  set  out 
for  the  scenes  of  expected  conflict. 

If  Hiram  Bradford  was  elated  over  the  news  re- 
ceived, he  succeeded  in  concealing  the  fact  from 
Douglas.  The  latter  was  depressed  and  sorrowful. 
Well  he  knew  what  would  be  the  fate  of  many  ex- 
posed posts  and  settlements  upon  the  border,  as  the 
result  of  such  a  war. 

La  Violette  listened  attentively  to  the  impassioned 
speeches  of  the  chiefs — speeches  counseling  murder 
and  pillage  —  and  sighed  heavily.  Yet  when  Ross 
questioned  her  as  to  what  she  thought,  she  replied 
firmly : 

"The  redmen  have  been  wronged  —  deeply 
wronged.  Their  cause  is  a  just  one.  They  seek  to 
recover  what  is  their  own ;  and  they  mean  to  take 
advantage  of  this  opportunity.  They  should  not  be 
blamed;  for  in  vain  have  they  pleaded  for  justice. 
They  will  join  the  English,  hoping  to  recover  the 
land  of  their  fathers.  If  the  Seventeen  Fires  be 
successful  in  the  struggle,  the  condition  of  the  red- 
men  will  be  no  worse  ;  if  the  English  gain  the  vic- 
tory, the  condition  of  the  redmen  will  be  bettered  — 
I  hope,  though  I  cannot  fully  trust  the  promises  of 
the  British.  That  the  Indians  will  commit  excesses 
is  to  be  expected.  No  one  deplores  their  mode  of 
warfare  more  than  I.  But  they  are  ignorant,  su- 
perstitious, revengeful  savages.  God  made  them 
such." 

"  L,a  Violette,  you  talk  as  though  these  same  ig- 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  247 

norant  savages  were  your  people,  your  relatives  — 
as  though  their  cause  was  your  own,"  Ross  said 
sadly. 

Her  eyes  flashed  and  her  chest  heaved,  as  she  said 
angrily  : 

"What  is  it  to  you,  Ross  Douglas,  how  I  talk  — 
what  I  think  ?  These  miserable  beings  are  all  the 
friends  I  have  —  all  I  expect  to  have.  You  do  not 
care  who  I  am,  what  I  am,  or  what  may  become  of 
me  !  Why  do  you  concern  yourself  about  what  I 
say  or  think  ?  Your  only  desire  is  to  escape  and  re- 
turn to  your  —  your  home,  to  forget  that  you  ever 
saw  me  ! ' ' 

Bursting  into  tears,  she  turned  and  left  him  star- 
ing after  her. 

For  the  next  few  days  Douglas  was  in  a  fever  of 
unrest.  Now  he  had  an  additional  incentive  to  es- 
cape. His  country  again  needed  his  services.  He 
could  not  delay  much  longer  —  he  must  make  the 
attempt,  though  he  should  court  death  in  so  doing. 
He  said  to  himself  : 

"  I'll  go  to  Bradford  and  give  him  warning  of 
my  intentions.  I  cannot  break  my  word  —  I  cannot 
act  a  dishonorable  part,  even  to  gain  my  liberty. 
No  doubt  he'll  disarm  me  and  place  me  under 
close  surveillance.  No  matter ;  I'll  elude  the 
vigilance  of  his  red  hounds  in  some  way.  Perhaps 
I  can  make  my  way  to  Fort  Wayne.  The  Indians 
are  inflamed  by  the  declaration  of  war ;  it  will  not 
be  safe  for  me  to  remain  here  much  longer  —  espe- 
cially, if  Bradford  should  be  called  away.  Why  does 


248  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

that  man  hold  me  captive?  Idle  question  !  I  can't 
answer  it.  Great  heaven !  Almost  a  year  has 
passed  since  I  left  Amy.  I'll  delay  no  longer.  I'll 
risk  all  upon  one  cast  of  the  die  1  " 

That  evening  another  Indian  runner  arrived  in 
the  village.  He  came  from  Maiden,  and  brought  a 
message  from  Tecumseh  to  Tenskwatawa,  to  enlist 
all  the  warriors  he  could,  and  send  them  to  Canada 
at  once.  The  great  chief  promised  that  all  who 
would  come  should  be  paid  for  their  services  and 
share  in  the  plunder. 

Tenskwatawa  at  once  set  about  the  work.  His 
persuasive*  powers  were  great ;  the  Indians  feared 
his  baleful  influence  ;  and  scarcely  a  brave  dared  to 
disobey  his  orders.  Within  a  surprisingly  short 
time,  he  had  a  large  number  enlisted  and  ready  to 
set  out.  Tecumseh  had  sent  word  that  the  women 
and  children  of  the  warriors  enlisting  should  be  sent, 
under  escort,  beyond  the  Mississippi ;  and  that  the 
Prophet  should  then  raise  another  force  to  attack 
Vincennes.  The  great  Shawnee  promised  to  return 
and  lead  the  attack  upon  that  place.  Tenskwatawa 
carried  out  his  brother's  orders  to  the  letter. 

L/a  Violette  did  not  accompany  the  women  and 
children  on  their  long  and  lonely  journey.  The 
Prophet  desired  that  she  should  do  so  ;  but  she  ap- 
pealed to  Bradford,  with  the  result  that  she  was 
permitted  to  stay  with  the  few  Indians  remaining  at 
the  village — most  of  whom  were  Miamis  that 
stubbornly  refused  to  cast  their  lots  in  with  the 
British. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  249 

All  this  occurred  within  a  few  days  after  the  ar- 
rival of  the  runner  from  Canada. 

This  messenger  also  brought  a  sealed  message 
from  the  English  commander,  to  Bradford.  Im- 
mediately upon  its  receipt,  the  latter  went  to  Doug- 
las and  said  : 

"  As  you  know,  I'm  in  the  employ  of  the  British. 
I've  just  received  instructions  to  go  among  the 
various  tribes  still  remaining  neutral,  and  try  to  en- 
list their  services  in  behalf  of  the  English  govern- 
ment. I  must  start  at  once.  Probably  I  shall  be 
gone  some  weeks.  You  will  remain  here  until  I 
come  back.  You'll  not  be  lonely.  La  Violette 
will  be  your  companion."  —  He  smiled  a  meaning 
smile.  —  "  On  my  return  we  three  will  go  to  Can- 
ada. I'm  sorry  to  part  from  you  —  for  so  short  a 
time,  even;  but  it  can't  be  helped.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  that  if  my  mission  proves  successful  — 
as  it  will  — it  means  thousands  of  pounds  to  me. 
And  you  shall  share  in  my  good-fortune.  You  will 
do  as  I  wish?" 

"  I  will  not,"  was  the  positive  answer.  "  Why 
should  I?" 

"Because  I  desire  you  to  do  so,"  Bradford  re- 
turned coolly. 

"  Then  I  should  play  the  part  of  a  passive  traitor, 

simply  to  please  you  who  have  wronged ' '  Ross 

began  hotly,  but  came  to  an  abrupt  stop. 

' '  Well  ?  ' '     And  Bradford  smiled  broadly. 

"  I  was  going  to  say,"  Douglas  resumed  calmly, 
1 '  that  according  to  your  admissions,  I  should  play 


250  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

the  traitor,  to  please  you  who  have  kept  me  a  pris- 
oner for  months  and  still  have  me  in  your  power." 

"You'll  not  be  playing  the  traitor;  you'll  re- 
main neutral  —  that's  all. ' ' 

' '  A  passive  traitor  is  as  bad  as  an  active  one.  I 
cannot  consent  to  your  proposal.  I've  been  here 
too  long  already,  much  against  my  will.  I  wish  to 
revisit  my  home  for  a  few  days  —  then  again  offer 
my  services  to  my  country.  You  say  you  are  my 
friend.  In  some  ways  you  have  proven  your  asser- 
tion. Let  me  depart  in  peace." 

' '  You  put  my  friendship  to  a  severe  test, ' '  Brad- 
ford laughed. 

"You  will  not  grant  my  request?  " 

"No  — I  cannot." 

"Why  ?  "  —  impatiently. 

' '  Because  to  allow  you  to  leave  here  would  upset 
my  plans." 

"Your  plans?" 

"  Yes  ;  the  plans  I  have  laid  for  your  future." 

"Please  explain,"  Ross  said,  a  sneer  curling 
his  lip. 

' '  I  wish  I  might  explain  to  you  —  tell  you  every- 
thing," Bradford  answered  very  earnestly.  "  But 
I  don't  dare  to  do  so  at  present.  I  fear  it  might 
prove  disastrous.  Be  patient  just  a  little  longer. 
You  shall  know  all  ere  long.  Then  you'll  bless 
me  for  having  kept  you  here. ' ' 

"Never!"  Douglas  cried  angrily.  "I'm  no 
child  —  and  I'll  not  stay." 

"  You  mean  to  try  to  escape  again  ?  " 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  251 

"Yes." 

For  a  half  minute  Bradford  dropped  his  head  in 
thought.  Evidently  he  was  greatly  moved.  At  last 
he  said  sadly  but  decidedly  —  his  husky  voice 
hardly  audible  : 

"You're  an  honorable,  upright  gentleman,  Ross 
Douglas  ;  you  keep  your  word,  even  when  the  break- 
ing of  it  would  give  you  the  liberty  you  covet.  I 
would  set  you  free  —  but  no  !  You  must  not  —  you 
shall  not  leave  the  place,  until  I  am  ready  for  you  to 
do  so.  I'm  off  now.  Good-by." 

Silently  the  two  men  shook  hands  and  parted. 
Both  were  strangely  moved. 

A  few  minutes  later  Bradford  was  saying  to  a 
stalwart  Shawnee  brave  —  one  of  the  few  remaining 
at  the  Mississinewa  village  : 

"Long  Gun,  you  are  not  to  join  any  of  the  ex- 
peditions against  the  Americans.  Select  a  score  of 
your  most  trusty  warriors,  and  remain  here  to  pro- 
tect La  Violette  and  guard  Fleet  Foot.  This  evening 
when  the  young  paleface  retires  to  rest,  slip  into  the 
hut  and  disarm  him.  Do  not  lose  sight  of  him  at  any 
time  —  and  guard  him  well  each  night.  Remember 
that  he  is  fleet  of  foot,  brave,  and  strong.  Under 
no  circumstances  is  he  to  be  ill-treated  or  injured. 
Keep  him  safe  until  my  return,  and  you  shall  have 
fifty  pounds  in  gold.  Here  is  ten  pounds  to  bind 
the  bargain.  Can  I  depend  on  you?  " 

"  Ugh  !  "  ejaculated  the  imperturbable  Long  Gun, 
as  one  by  one  he  dropped  the  jingling  coins  into 
his  pouch. 


252  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Bradford  hurried  away  toward  Tenskwatawa's 
cabin.  Arriving  there,  he  found  the  Prophet  alone  ; 
and,  striding  up  to  him,  said  brusquely  : 

' '  I  am  leaving  upon  a  mission  to  the  neutral 
tribes.  During  my  absence,  La  Violette  is  to  re- 
main here.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

Tenskvvatawa  nodded  stiffly. 

"Heed  my  words,  then,"  Bradford  continued 
savagely.  ' '  If  you  drag  her  away  from  here  in 
my  absence  —  and  thus  defeat  my  plans  —  I  will 
choke  the  life  out  of  you,  the  first  time  I  meet  you. 
Beware  !" 

The  cowering  Prophet  looked  the  impotent  rage 
he  felt,  but  did  not  open  his  lips.  As  he  left  the 
cabin  Bradford  chuckled  huskily  : 

"  I  have  cowed  him.  The  miserable  coward  —  he 
is  afraid  to  say  his  life  is  his  own  ! ' ' 

Then  gravely  : 

"  But  he's  cunning  —  treacherous.  What  a  won- 
derful, uncanny  power  he  exerts  over  his  ignorant 
people  !  I  must  not  be  long  absent.  What  a  sweet 
revenge  it  would  be  to  him,  to  frustrate  my  designs. 
The  only  thing  that  will  restrain  him  is  his  ab- 
ject cowardice.  How  he  hates  me  !  And  for  what  ? 
Because  I  have  made  him  bow  the  knee  to  me  —  the 
craven  !  Because  my  wishes  have  run  counter  to 
his  selfish  purpose  —  because  I  have  done  as  I 
please  concerning  the  welfare  of  that  dear 
girl." 

Just  outside  of  the  door  he  met  La  Violette. 

"I'm  going  away  for  a  few  weeks,  La  Violette," 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  253 

he  remarked.  "  In  my  absence  improve  your  op- 
portunity to  the  utmost. ' ' 

' '  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked  softly,  dropping 
her  long  lashes  over  her  tell-tale  eyes. 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,  my  little  coquette,"  he 
laughed  lightly.  ' '  You  have  ensnared  Ross  Doug- 
las'  s  heart.  Throw  a  few  more  cords  of  love  around 
it,  to  hold  it  secure." 

"  Snared  his  heart  !  "  she  cried,  petulantly  stamp- 
ing her  moccasined  foot.  "  He  has  no  heart  —  it  is 
in  another's  keeping." 

' '  Not  so,  little  one, "  he  answered  positively. 
"  He's  betrothed 'to  another  —  he  muttered  her  name 
in  his  delirium — but  he's  learning  to  love  you. 
Already  he  loves  you  better  than  you  know  —  than 
he  suspects.  Yours  is  the  name  that  falls  from  his 
lips  during  sleep.  Be  patient  —  but  persistent.  De- 
vote yourself  to  his  comfort  —  make  yourself  nec- 
essary to  his  very  existence.  Above  all,  see  to  it 
that  he  doesn't  escape  during  my  absence. 
Good-by." 

Ere  she  could  make  reply,  Bradford  had  turned 
the  corner  of  the  cabin  and  disappeared.  A  half 
hour  later  he  had  set  out  upon  his  journey,  accom- 
panied by  a  half  score  of  picked  warriors. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  night  of  Bradford's  departure  was  quite 
warm  for  the  time  of  year.  Ross  Douglas 
sat  in  front  of  the  cabin  he  had  occupied  since 
coming  to  the  village.  The  balmy  air  was  laden 
with  the  scent  of  wild  flowers  —  sweet  with  the 
breath  of  the  damp  woodland.  I^a  Violette  timidly 
stole  to  his  side  and  whispered  : 

' '  You  are  lonely.     May  I  talk  to  you  ?  " 

"Certainly  —  I'm  always  glad  to  have  your 
company,"  he  replied, — sincerity  in  his  voice  and 
manner. 

In  low  tones  they  conversed  for  some  time,  aim- 
lessly rambling  from  one  subject  to  another.  Each 
put  forth  an  effort  to  entertain  the  other ;  but  in 
spite  of  their  endeavors  the  conversation  flagged. 
Silence  fell  upon  them.  The  stars  peeped  out ;  the 
moon  rose  above  the  tree-tops.  At  last  the  girl 
sprang  from  her  seat,  and  with  a  soft  "good- 
night ' '  slipped  away  among  the  shadows. 

Douglas  promptly  got  upon  his  feet,  and  calling 
to  Duke  —  who  lay  dozing  near  the  door  —  entered 
the  hut.  The  place  was  in  absolute  darkness. 
Without  removing  any  of  his  apparel,  the  young 
man  threw  himself  upon  his  couch,  murmuring  : 

"At  last  the  opportunity  has  come;  and  I'm 
ready  to  take  advantage  of  it.  I'll  snatch  a  few 
(254) 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  255 

hours  of  sleep.  Then  when  the  camp  is  wrapped 
in  slumber,  I'll  steal  into  the  black  forest,  and 
leave  this  hated  place  far  behind  me.  No  guards 
have  been  placed  over  me.  I  can  hardly  under- 
stand it.  But  I  ought  not  to  complain,  if  fortune 
sees  fit  to  favor  me  for  once.  Ah,  Amy!  God 
favoring,  I  shall  soon  meet  you  and  clasp  you  to 
my  heart  !" 

A  short  time  he  lay,  open-eyed  and  thoughtful. 
Then  sighing  deeply,  he  whispered  : 

"  But  I  hate  to  part  from  La  Violette.  She's  a 
sweet,  lovable,  trusting  child.  I  have  learned  to 
like  her  very  much.  And  —  poor  little  girl !  —  she 
likes  me  only  too  well,  I  fear.  But  I'm  in  nowise 
to  blame.  I  haven't  sought  to  win  her  heart.  I 
have  tried  to  hold  her  at  arm's  length.  But,  sim- 
ple child  of  nature  that  she  is,  she  can't  disguise 
her  feelings.  I  pity  her.  I  hate  to  leave  her  here 
—  to  such  a  fate.  But  I  can't  take  her  with  me — 
it's  out  of  the  question.  How  lonely  she  will  be! 
May  God  keep  and  comfort  my  little  wild  violet, 
when  I  am  gone  ! ' ' 

With  this  fervent  utterance,  he  resolutely  closed 
his  eyes  and  fell  asleep. 

An  hour  passed.  Ross  was  awakened  by  the 
voice  of  the  bloodhound.  The  animal  stood  by  his 
master's  bedside,  growling  fiercely.  His  bristles 
were  erect ;  his  eyes,  fixed  upon  the  open  door, 
through  which  the  mellow  moonlight  was  streaming. 
Douglas  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow  and  looked 
toward  the  opening  in  the  wall.  A  dusky  form  for 


256  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

one  brief  moment  darkened  the  doorway.  Then, 
outlined  in  the  bright  moonlight,  a  stalwart  Indian 
stepped  into  the  room.  Instantly  Ross  was  upon 
his  feet. 

"What  do  you  want  here?"  he  demanded  an- 
grily, in  the  Shawnee  tongue. 

The  brave  made  no  reply  ;  but,  gliding  forward, 
secured  Douglas's  gun  that  stood  in  the  corner  of 
the  room  near  the  bed.  Then  he  nimbly  leaped 
through  the  doorway  —  and  was  gone. 

Beside  himself  with  rage  and  disappointment,  the 
young  man  shouted  : 

"Take  him,  Duke!" 

Impatiently  the  bloodhound  had  been  awaiting 
the  word  of  command.  With  a  bound  he  cleared 
the  doorway.  Another  leap,  and  he  fell  upon  the 
retreating  savage,  like  an  avalanche.  The  warrior 
dropped  the  rifle  and  drew  his  knife  to  defend  him- 
self, uttering  a  blood-curdling  yell  as  he  did  so. 

Ross  hastened  to  the  dog's  assistance.  Dark 
forms  slipped  from  the  shadow  of  the  building,  and 
silently  surrounded  the  combatants.  The  hound 
seized  the  hand  that  held  the  glittering  knife,  and 
gave  it  a  wrench  that  caused  the  weapon  to  fall  to 
the  ground.  Douglas  caught  up  his  rifle,  and 
watched  for  a  chance  to  deal  the  savage  a  stunning 
blow.  But,  at  the  favorable  moment,  a  number  of 
warriors  threw  themselves  upon  him  and  bore  him 
to  the  earth.  Realizing  that  further  resistance 
would  be  suicidal,  he  ceased  to  struggle  and  called 
off  the  bloodhound. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  257 

A  few  minutes  afterward,  he  again  lay  upon  his 
couch  of  furs  in  the  cabin,  bound  hand  and  foot ;  while 
Duke,  stretched  full  length  upon  the  floor,  lolled 
his  red  tongue  and  whined  dolefully.  Just  within 
the  door  stood  a  guard  —  silent  and  motionless  as  a 
bronze  statue. 

The  news  of  the  attempted  escape  and  consequent 
struggle  quickly  spread  throughout  the  village,  and 
occasioned  no  little  excitement.  Duke  had  seriously 
injured  the  Indian  he  had  attacked  ;  and  the  war- 
rior's comrades  and  friends  threatened  dire  venge- 
ance upon  the  dog  and  his  master.  Long  Gun  sought 
to  pacify  the  angry  braves  —  but  failed.  They 
openly  rebelled  against  the  chief's  authority,  and 
swore  they  would  kill  the  hound  and  his  owner.  In 
his  extremity  Long  Gun  went  to  La  Violette  and 
laid  the  case  before  her. 

She  answered  him  : 

"  Have  no  fear.  Your  prisoner  shall  not  be 
harmed.  Select  those  who  will  obey  you,  and 
closely  guard  him  to-night.  To-morrow  I  will  inter- 
fere in  his  behalf. ' ' 

Well  pleased,  Long  Gun  returned  to  his  post  of 
duty  and  carried  out  La  Violette's  instructions. 
But  had  tie  known  what  was  her  real  intention,  he 
would  not  have  felt  so  complacent. 

When  the  Shawne*  chief  had  left  her  presence, 
La  Violette  threw  herself  upon  her  couch  and 
sobbed  bitterly: 

' '  Yes,  I  must  save  him  —  save  him  by  giving 
him  his  liberty,  by  parting  from  him  forever!  Oh, 


258  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

it  is  hard  —  cruel  !  For  I  love  him  —  I  love  him  ! 
But  he  must  not  die  —  and  die  he  will,  if  he  re- 
mains here  longer.  The  warriors  are  determined 
to  take  his  life  ;  they  cannot  be  restrained.  He 
must  leave  to-morrow  night,  at  the  latest.  Oh, 
Ross  —  Ross  1  My  love  —  my  love  !  You  will 
never  know  how  I  worship  you  —  never  !  ' ' 

All  night  long,  the  village  was  in  a  buzz  of  ex- 
citement. Ross  Douglas  lay  upon  his  bed,  a  prey 
to  despairing  thoughts  and  gloomy  forebodings. 
With  wide-open  eyes,  he  peered  into  the  darkness 
that  surrounded  him  ;  with  alert  ears,  he  listened  to 
every  sound.  The  hum  of  many  voices  came  to 
him  at  intervals.  Occasionally,  the  soft  breeze  that 
swept  through  the  door  brought  a  threat  or  an  ob- 
jurgation. He  realized  the  great  mistake  he  had 
made. 

"  All  is  over  —  I  am  lost  !  "  he  muttered  chok- 
ingly, a  black  wave  of  despair  engulfing  his  soul. 
"  I  may  as  well  resign  myself  to  my  fate.  Ill-luck 
has  followed  me  persistently.  Joe  and  Bright 
Wing  are  dead,  or  helpless  captives  like  myself  ; 
Bradford  is  absent.  I've  not  a  friend  in  the 
place  —  except  I/a  Violette.  And  what  can  she  do  ? 
Nothing  !  What  would  she  do,  if  she  could  ?  I 
don't  know.  She  wouldn't  give  me  my  liberty,  I'm 
sure.  And  I  would  as  lief  die  as  remain  longer 
a  prisoner  !  She  loves  me  ?  Yes.  But  she  will 
not  aid  me  to  escape  —  of  course  not.  She  would 
rather  see  me  die  before  her  eyes,  than  resign  me  to 
another.  What  a  fool  I  was  to  try  to  recover  my 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  259 

gun  !  But  I  was  crazy  with  disappointment.  Ah  ! 
Duke,  old  fellow,  you  seem  to  realize  the  gravity 
of  the  situation.  Three  times  we  have  contended 
against  these  red  demons.  They'll  not  spare  us 
this  time.  Well,  at  least  I  can  die  like  a  man  ;  you 
can  die  like  a  hero.  I  wouldn't  care  so  much  — 
though  life  is  sweet  —  were  it  not  for  Amy  and  La 
Violette.  Yes,  L,a  Violette  !  I  pity  her  ;  I  — 


Slowly,  endlessly,  the  night  dragged  itself  away. 
The  morning  dawned  warm  and  clear.  At  sunrise 
La  Violette  made  her  way  to  the  cabin  in  which  the 
prisoner  was  confined.  The  guard  at  the  door  did 
not  oppose  her  entrance  ;  but  he  maintained  his 
position  just  within  the  door. 

Douglas  looked  up  as  the  girl's  light  footsteps 
fell  upon  his  ear.  He  saw  that  she  was  pale  and 
haggard,  that  her  eyelids  were  swollen  with  weeping. 

"  You  heard  of  my  ill-  fortune  and  came  to  me," 
he  remarked  simply. 

"Yes,  "she  replied  in  a  tone  scarcely  audible. 
"  Do  you  not  want  something  to  eat?  " 

"  I  want  nothing." 

"  Nothing  ?  "     And  she  eyed  him  sharply. 

"  Nothing  but  my  liberty." 

"It  is  impossible  for  me  to  give  you  that,"  she 
answered  hastily,  giving  him  a  look  that  he  could 
not  interpret.  "But  you  must  eat  something. 
You  will  need  all  your  strength  for  the  ordeal." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  inquired  in  an  un- 
moved voice* 


260  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Unheeding  his  question,  she  turned  and  left  the 
hut.  She  was  gone  but  a  few  minutes.  When  she 
returned,  she  bore  a  quantity  of  corn  bread  and  meat. 

"You  must  eat  this  —  all  of  it,"  she  said  de- 
cidedly. "  Here,  Duke —  here  is  your  share." 

After  she  had  unbound  his  hands,  Ross  sat  up  and 
silently  devoured  the  food  to  the  last  crumb. 

"  I  thought  you  were  hungry,"  she  said  as  she 
took  the  platter  from  his  hands.  "Do  you  want 
anything  more  ?  " 

"  I'd  like  some  water." 

She  brought  it  to  him. 

"That's  all,"  he  said,  as  he  returned  her  the 
cup.  "  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness." 

"And  you  would  like  to  have  your  liberty?" 
she  queried  in  a  half-mocking  tone. 

"  Of  course,"  he  answered  gravely. 

"  To  join  in  a  war  against  my  people  ?  " 

"  Against  England,"  he  corrected. 

"  My  people  are  allies  of  the  English." 

"  Still  you  can't  blame  me  for  wishing  to  fight 
for  my  country." 

"  And  you  cannot  blame  me  for  refusing  to  lib- 
erate you." 

He  remained  silent.  Again  she  gave  him  that 
meaning  glance  ;  but  he  could  not  fathom  it.  At 
that  moment,  the  sound  of  voices  in  angry  alter- 
cation came  to  their  ears. 

' '  Secure  his  hands  !  "  I/a  Violette  cried  to  the 
guard,  as  she  sprang  past  him  and  planted  her 
slender  form  in  the  doorway. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  261 

The  sight  that  met  her  gaze  was  one  calculated 
to  unnerve  the  bravest  man.  Fifty  armed  warriors 
had  overpowered  1/ong  Gun  and  his  faithful  few, 
and  were  rushing  toward  the  spot  where  she  stood. 

Only  too  well  she  knew  what  it  meant.  The  in- 
furiated mob  were  bent  upon  murdering  Ross 
Douglas. 

On  they  came,  brandishing  their  weapons  and 
yelling  like  demons.  Their  painted  faces  were  con- 
torted with  rage  ;  their  eyes  gleamed  with  the  fire 
of  their  hellish  purpose. 

The  hot  blood  forsook  La  Violette's  face,  and 
surged  in  a  sickening  flood  to  her  heart  and  brain. 
Her  vision  grew  misty  ;  her  limbs  trembled.  But 
she  set  her  white  teeth  and  firmly  stood  her  ground. 

The  leaders  of  the  mob  reached  the  hut.  With 
angry  exclamations,  they  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  as 
they  beheld  the  daughter  of  the  Prophet  barring 
the  entrance. 

"  La  Violette  must  stand  aside!"  shouted  a  burly 
warrior.  ' '  We  want  the  young  paleface.  We 
mean  to  kill  him  —  to  tear  him  limb  from  limb  !  " 

The  girl  neither  spoke  nor  moved ;  but  she 
sternly  fastened  her  eyes  upon  the  speaker  —  and 
he  recoiled  a  step. 

"  Out  of  the  way  !  Out  of  the  way  !  "  bellowed 
the  mob. 

' '  Never  ! ' '  she  answered  in  clear,  ringing  tones. 

They  surged  forward,  threatening  to  crush  her 
under  foot.  She  did  not  flinch,  but  raising  her 
voice  to  the  highest  pitch,  cried  imperiously  : 

"  Hold  !     I  —  La  Violette  —  command  you  !  " 


262  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

They  wavered  —  faltered  —  paused. 

Taking  advantage  of  their  temporary  indecision, 
she  continued  breathlessly  : 

' '  You  shall  not  kill  this  helpless  prisoner  !  I  — 
the  daughter  of  the  Prophet  —  command  you  to 
disperse.  You  shall  not  harm  the  paleface,  unless 
you  first  kill  me  !  Do  you  dare  to  kill  Tenskwat- 
awa's  daughter — the  gift  of  the  Great  Spirit? 
Make  but  a  move  to  touch  me,  and  the  Great  Spirit 
will  strike  you  dead  in  your  tracks  ! ' ' 

Her  eyes  were  blazing  ;  her  breast  heaving.  To 
the  superstitious  warriors  who  faced  her,  she  was 
the  living,  breathing  embodiment  of  supernatural 
power.  Awed  into  silence,  they  forgot  their  pur- 
pose and  began  to  draw  away  from  her  dread  pres- 
ence. 

"Go  —  and  quickly  !"  she  commanded  sternly. 
"Ere  I  lose  my  patience  and  call  down  upon  you 
the  curse  of  the  Great  Spirit  !  " 

They  waited  to  hear  no  more ;  but  silently,  sul- 
lenly shrunk  away  and  disappeared  among  the 
neighboring  huts. 

' '  Saved  —  saved  for  the  present !  "  I,a  Violette 
panted,  as  she  staggered  into  the  cabin  and  sank  in 
a  quivering  heap  upon  the  floor. 

"  L,a  Violette,"  Ross  called  gently. 

In  answer,  she  burst  into  ,tears  and  sobbed  softly. 
After  a  time  she  regained  control  of  her  feelings, 
and,  arising,  went  to  his  side. 

"You  have  saved  my  life,  at  the  risk  of  your 
own,"  he  said  with  feeling. 

"I  have  repaid  the  debt  I  owed  you,"  she  an- 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  263 

swered  very  quietly.  ' '  You  will  be  safe  for  a  time, 
at  least.  I  must  leave  you  now." 

And  ere  he  could  make  reply,  she  had  withdrawn 
from  the  hut. 

Just  outside  she  met  Long  Gun.  The  chief's 
face  wore  a  crestfallen  and  worried  expression. 

Addressing  him  in  the  Shawnee  language,  she 
commanded : 

' '  1/ong  Gun  will  take  his  men  and  occupy  the 
cabin.  If  the  mob  return  to  take  the  paleface's 
life,  Long  Gun  and  his  warriors  will  defend  him  to 
the  last." 

"Ugh!"  replied  the  Shawnee,  with  animation 
unusual  to  him. 

She  continued : 

' '  Long  Gun  will  not  hesitate  to  shoot  down  any 
that  seek  to  harm  the  prisoner — or  his  dog.  La 
Violette  has  spoken — Long  Gun  will  obey." 

' '  Long  Gun's  ears  are  open  ;  he  hears  and  under- 
stands," was  the  grim  reply. 

La  Violette  passed  on  to  the  Prophet's  quarters. 
The  latter  was  preparing  to  journey  to  Fort  Wayne, 
with  a  hundred  warriors,  to  demand  ammunition 
of  the  American  commandant  of  the  post. 

"  Father,"  the  girl  said,  as  she  stood  in  his  pres- 
ence. 

"What  does  my  daughter  wish?"  he  asked 
kindly. 

"  You  are  preparing  to  leave  the  village? " 

"Yes." 

"To-day?" 


264  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"Ugh!" 

"  You  must  not  go." 

He  stared  at  her  in  open-mouthed  surprise.  She 
hastily  explained : 

"  An  attack  has  just  been  made  upon  Fleet  Foot's 
life.  I  overawed  the  mad  warriors  ;  for  the  present  he 
is  safe.  But  the  attempt  will  be  renewed.  I  may 
need  your  help.  You  must  not  leave  the  village 
to-day  or  to-night." 

"  Why  does  my  daughter  try  to  save  the  pale- 
face's life  ?  "  he  demanded  angrily. 

' '  Because  Fleet  Foot  saved  the  life  of  L,a  Vio- 
lette,"  she  answered  promptly. 

"  Ugh  !  "  he  ejaculated  —  and  was  silent. 

"You  will  do  as  I  desire?  "she  inquired  anx- 
iously. 

He  nodded  sullenly. 

"  Listen,  then,"  she  went  on  rapidly.  "Fleet 
Foot  must  be  protected  to-day  ;  to-night  he  must 
leave  the  village." 

"But  Scar  Face "  Tenskwatawa  began,  a 

look  of  terror  creeping  over  his  repellant  features. 

"  I  know  what  my  father  would  say,"  she  inter- 
rupted. "But  I  will  assume  all  responsibility. 
Fleet  Foot  shall  not  remain  here  to  be  killed.  You 
have  nothing  to  fear  from  Scar  Face.  I  will  shield 
you  from  his  wrath." 

The  Prophet  hung  his  head  and  made  no  reply  ; 
and  the  girl  left  the  cabin.  As  she  passed  through 
the  doorway  and  dropped  the  curtain  of  skins  be- 
hind her,  the  cowardly  wretch  muttered  shiveringly : 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  265 

"  Scar  Face  will  be  very  angry.  But  La  Violette 
will  have  her  way  —  I  am  helpless. ' ' 

Then  hiding  his  face  in  the  folds  of  his  blanket, 
he  groaned  aloud. 

The  day  passed  quietly.  Evening  came  —  and 
the  shades  of  night  began  to  gather.  As  soon  as 
it  was  quite  dark,  La  Violette  went  to  Long  Gun 
and,  drawing  him  aside,  said  : 

' '  The  enemies  of  Fleet  Foot  are  gathering  in 
front  of  the  council-lodge.  Soon  they  will  make 
another  attempt  to  kill  him.  When  they  come,  he 
must  not  be  here.  La  Violette  will  take  him  to  her 
lodge  —  will  hide  him  where  they  dare  not  enter, 
where  they  cannot  find  him.  As  soon  as  Long  Gun 
hears  the  mob  coming,  he  and  his  braves  will  slip 
away  in  the  darkness.  Does  Long  Gun  under- 
stand?" 

Greatly  relieved  —  for  he  had  been  apprehensive 
of  the  result  of  the  attack  that  was  sure  to  come  — 
Long  Gun  replied  : 

"La  Violette  is  wise  and  good.  Long  Gun  will 
do  her  bidding." 

"It  is  well,"  she  answered  simply,  and  entered 
the  cabin. 

Douglas  lay  upon  his  couch,  dreading  what  the 
night  might  have  in  store  for  him.  His  guards  had 
given  him  food  and  drink,  at  noon  and  early  in  the 
evening.  Duke  sat  beside  the  bed,  lovingly  licking 
his  master's  manacled  hands  and  whining  softly. 
Ross  first  became  aware  of  La  Violette's  presence, 


266  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

when  she  bent  over  him,  severed  his  bonds,  and 
whispered  in  his  ear  : 

' '  Come  with  me  —  and  do  not  speak  or  make  a 
noise. ' ' 

Without  a  murmur  he  arose  and  meekly  accom- 
panied her  from  the  cabin.  Duke  silently  followed. 
La  Violette's  hut  was  but  a  few  rods  from  the  one 
Douglas  had  occupied  ;  but  she  took  a  circuitous 
route,  to  avoid  observation,  and  approached  the 
building  from  the  rear. 

On  reaching  its  interior  —  which  was  in  absolute 
darkness  —  she  said  in  an  agitated  undertone  : 

"Remain  here  until  I  return.  I  will  be  gone  but 
a  few  minutes." 

Left  alone,  Ross  threw  himself  upon  the  floor,  and 
rubbed  and  kneaded  his  stiffened  and  swollen  limbs. 
He  wondered  what  La  Violette's  intentions  were. 
While  he  was  still  ransacking  his  brain  for  an 
answer,  the  young  woman  returned. 

"  Fleet  Foot,"  she  called  softly,  musically,  as  she 
stepped  within  the  room  and  let  fall  the  curtain  of 
skins. 

"  Here,"  he  replied,  as  he  arose  to  his  feet. 

Guided  by  his  voice,  she  found  her  way  to  his 
side,  and  murmured  : 

"Here  is  gun,  knife,  and  ammunition.  In  the 
pouch  you  will  find  food." 

With  the  words,  she  placed  the  things  in  his  out- 
stretched hands.  Now  he  understood  her  inten- 
tions. But  he  said  nothing  —  his  heart  was  too  full. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  267 

"  Have  you  flint  and  steel?"  she  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  he  managed  to  articulate. 

' '  But  one  thing  more  —  then  you  must  be  off. 
Hold  out  your  right  hand." 

He  did  so ;  and  felt  her  placing  something  upon 
his  finger. 

' '  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"  Giving  you  a  ring." 

"  A  ring?  "  in  surprise. 

' '  Yes  ;  Tenskwatawa's  talisman  —  the  Sign  of  the 
Prophet." 

' '  Why  do  you  do  that  ?  "  he  inquired  in  wonder 
and  amazement. 

' '  You  may  be  pursued  and  recaptured  —  or  may 
fall  into  the  hands  of  some  roving  band  of  redmen. 
In  either  case,  the  talisman  will  save  your  life. 
Boldly  show  it  and  say  that  Tenskwatawa  gave  it  to 
you  —  that  you  are  under  his  protection,  that  you 
have  his  magic  power.  The  warriors  —  whoever 
they  may  be  —  will  not  ask  you  to  prove  your  asser- 
tions. They  have  been  led  to  believe  that  the 
power  lies  in  the  ring.  And  they  heard  the  Prophet 
say  at  Wildcat  Creek,  that  he  would  not  again  give 
the  trinket  into  the  hands  of  one  who  could  not  use 
it.  It  will  protect  you,  Fleet  Foot." 

"  But  how  did  you  obtain  it  ?  "  he  asked  in  an  ag- 
itated undertone. 

She  answered  naively  : 

' '  I  went  to  Tenskwatawa's  lodge,  to  get  the  gun 
and  ammunition  I  have  given  you.  He  was  sleep- 
ing. I  slipped  the  ring  from  his  finger  and  came 
away." 


268  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  But  in  so  doing  haven't  you  shorn  him  of  his 
power  ? ' ' 

"  No.  There  is  no  virtue  in  the  talisman,  except 
in  the  Prophet's  hands.  He  is  cunning.  He  will 
tell  a  miraculous  story  of  its  loss  —  and  straightway 
procure  another.  I  have  robbed  him  of  nothing  but 
the  bauble  itself.  But  you  are  tarrying  too  long  — 
you  must  go  at  once.  Crane  Bill,  my  aged  attend- 
ant, may  return  at  any  time.  She  hates  all  pale- 
faces ;  she  would  raise  an  alarm.  Hark  !  " 

Both  listened  intently,  holding  their  breaths  in 
their  excitement.  Fierce  yells  came  to  their  ears  — 
yells  of  fiendish  rage  and  disappointment.  Both 
knew  what  the  uproar  meant ;  Douglas's  enemies 
had  discovered  his  escape. 

Grasping  her  companion's  arm  with  both  her 
trembling  hands,  La  Violette  cried  breathlessly  : 

"  Go  —  go  at  once  !  They  are  searching  for  you. 
Soon  they  will  be  here.  The  cabin  will  be  sur- 
rounded and  your  escape  cut  off.  For  my  sake  — 
go!" 

Slipping  his  arm  around  her  supple  waist,  he 
panted  in  reply  : 

"  Come  with  me  !  This  is  no  place  for  you.  You 
are  not  safe  here  —  they'll  wreak  their  revenge 
upon  you '' 

' '  No  —  no  !  "  she  answered  brokenly.  "  It  is  im- 
possible. You  could  not  escape  with  me.  I  am 
safe  here  —  they  will  not  dare  to  harm  me.  Bid  me 
good-by — and  go  —  go!" 

"Come  with  me,  I,a  Violette!"  he  insisted  — 
tenderest  pity,  inteusest  love  in  his  voice.  "To- 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE   PROPHET  269 

gather  we  will  return  to  the  blessings  of  civilization. 
I'll  be  your  protector  —  your  brother " 

"  No  !  "  she  interrupted  sadly,  but  firmly  —  a  sob 
in  her  throat.  "  It  cannot  be.  To-day  I  have  been 
instrumental  in  saving  you  —  I  may  be  able  to  save 
others.  At  least,  I  can  risk  my  life  in  trying.  I 
cannot  go  with  you,  Ross.  Good-by  —  good-by  for- 
ever ! " 

"  Kiss  me  ! "  he  whispered  in  her  ear. 

She  lifted  her  face  to  his.  In  the  darkness  their 
lips  met.  Each  felt  the  tumultuous  beating  of  the 
other's  heart.  For  a  half  minute  he  strained  her  to 
his  breast,  ere  he  released  her  and  softly  murmured: 

"  Good-by,  I^a  Violette —  and  God  bless  you  !  " 

Then  he  and  his  dog  were  gone  —  and  she  was 
alone.  She  dropped  upon  the  bare  floor  and  hid  her 
face.  But  she  did  not  weep.  Her  grief  over  her 
loss,  her  anxiety  for  his  safety,  were  too  great.  A 
blood-curdling  whoop  and  the  patter  of  moccasined 
feet,  from  time  to  time,  came  to  her  ears  ;  but  no  one 
entered  the  cabin.  A  prey  to  suspense,  she  arose  at 
last  and  went  out  of  doors.  Douglas's  enemies 
were  continuing  their  search.  She  dimly  discerned 
their  dark  forms  flitting  here  and  there.  Aimlessly 
she  sauntered  toward  the  Prophet's  hut.  Just  as 
she  reached  it,  a  number  of  warriors  were  entering 
the  door.  She  followed  them;  and  heard  the  leader 
say  to  Tenskwatawa,  who  stood  at  one  end  of  the 
room,  directly  under  a  flaring  torch  stuck  into  the 
wall: 

"  Fleet  Foot  has  escaped.     He  is  in  hiding  about 


270  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

the  village.  Does  Tenskwatawa  know  aught  of 
him?" 

The  Prophet  expanded  his  chest,  and,  raising  his 
right  hand,  said  severely  : 

' '  Tenskwatawa  is  the  father  of  his  red  children. 
He  does  not  befriend  the  palefaces.  Begone  ! ' ' 

At  that  moment,  the  speaker  chanced  to  glance  at 
his  own  hand.  He  saw  that  his  ring  was  gone.  An 
expression  of  unspeakable  surprise  overspread  his 
horrid  features.  With  the  whimpering  cry  of  a 
whipped  child,  he  dropped  upon  his  knees  and  be- 
gan to  search  for  the  talisman.  Not  finding  it,  he 
silently  arose  to  his  feet,  an  expression  of  absolute 
imbecility  upon  his  face.  Then  appearing  to  realize 
the  magnitude  of  the  misfortune  that  had  befallen 
him,  he  dropped  to  the  floor  in  a  writhing  heap, 
moaning  and  beating  his  chest. 

"Ugh!"  ejaculated  the  leader  of  the  band. 
' '  Tenskwatawa  has  lost  his  sign  —  his  power.  See  ! 
He  is  weak  —  he  whines  like  a  sick  squaw  ! 
Ugh  ! " 

And  with  a  parting  volley  of  contemptuous  ex- 
clamations, the  braves  hastily  left  the  room. 

La  Violette  leaned  against  the  wall  and  calmly 
looked  upon  the  whining,  moaning  wretch  at  her 
feet.  Now  she  fully  realized  what  she  had  done  ; 
but  she  had  no  regret.  She  had  done  it  for  the  sake 
of  the  man  she  loved  ! 

The  Prophet  was  indeed  shorn  of  his  power. 
From  that  day  forth,  his  influence  over  his  people 
rapidly  decliuedi 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

IT  WAS  the  close  of  a  hot  July  day.  The  surface  of 
the  placid  Scioto  glinted  in  the  red  rays  of  the 
setting  sun.  The  dark-green  forests  surround- 
ing the  little  village  of  Franklinton  grew  darker, 
as  the  tremulous  twilight  faded  into  dewy  dusk. 
Blue  smoke  curled  gracefully  from  the  mud-daubed 
chimneys  of  the  villagers'  cabins.  A  tinkling  cow- 
bell broke  the  stillness  —  a  twinkling  star  peeped 
from  the  dusky  vault  above.  Swallows  skimmed 
low  along  the  shores  of  the  gently-flowing  river.  In- 
sect voices  joined  in  a  monotonous  threnody, 
lights  began  to  gleam  from  cottage  windows  and 
doors. 

Upon  the  western  bank  of  the  stream  —  a  few 
miles  below  the  village  —  stood  a  solitary  pedes- 
trian, leaning  against  a  rough-barked  elm  and  look- 
ing toward  the  opposite  shore.  He  carried  a 
long  rifle  ;  and  at  his  side  hung  ammunition-pouch 
and  powder-horn.  His  buckskin  suit  gave  evidence 
of  hard  usage,  being  soiled,  frayed,  and  ragged. 
The  soft  hat  that  surmounted  his  dark  curls  was 
battered  and  torn.  His  moccasins  were  ready  to 
drop  piecemeal  from  his  feet. 

Stooping  and  patting  the  head  of  a  large  blood- 
hound that  sat  panting  beside  him,  the  man  sighed 
wearily  and  began  : 

(271) 


272  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"Well,  Duke  —  old  fellow,  we're  here  at  last. 
We've  had  a  lonely  and  hazardous  journey.  But 
we're  here — free,  alive,  and  well." 

The  hound  yawned  and  wagged  his  tail,  as  though 
he  understood  the  words. 

Ross  Douglas  continued : 

"Yes,  my  faithful  friend,  together  we  have 
braved  the  numerous  perils  of  the  trackless  forest. 
But  we're  free — free  at  last !  True,  you  are  foot- 
sore and  weary ;  so  am  I.  And  both  of  us  are 
hungry.  But  our  journey's  over.  Soon  we'll 
eat  and  sleep  —  sleep  as  we  haven't  slept  in  days." 

The  dog  whined  plaintively.  Then  he  stiffly 
arose  and  looked  beseechingly  into  his  master's  face. 

"You're  telling  me  it's  time  to  be  moving," 
Douglas  remarked,  a  smile  lighting  his  handsome 
features.  "You're  a  knowing  animal,  Duke." 

Then  to  himself  : 

"  I  must  find  some  way  to  cross  the  river — I 
must  see  Amy  to-night.  But  I  don't  want  anyone 
to  know  of  my  return,  until  I  know  how  affairs  have 
gone  in  my  absence.  Therefore,  I  can't  go  to  the 
village  for  a  canoe.  But  I  know  where  one  of  the 
settlers  used  to  keep  one  hidden  in  the  bushes." 

Shouldering  his  rifle,  he  set  out  along  the  bank, 
Duke  following  him.  He  was  not  long  in  finding 
the  canoe  and  launching  it. 

"Jump  in  and  lie  down,  Duke,"  he  commanded. 

The  intelligent  brute  obeyed.  Ross  seized  the 
light  paddle  and  pushed  off.  A  few  rapid  and  vig- 
orous strokes  carried  the  boat  to  the  opposite  side 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  273 

of  the  stream.  Man  and  dog  leaped  ashore.  Doug- 
las beached  the  dugout,  and  set  off  along  the  path 
leading  to  the  Larkin  homestead — the  path  he 
knew  so  well. 

By  this  time  it  was  quite  dark.  The  warm  air 
was  sweet  with  woodsy  odors.  Fireflies  were  flitting 
here  and  there  among  the  trees.  No  sound  broke 
the  stillness  but  his  own  footfalls.  As  he  hurried 
forward,  his  heart  palpitating  wildly,  he  murmured 
under  his  breath : 

"At  last  —  at  last,  Amy  !  Soon  I  shall  press  you 
to  my  breast,  and  kiss  away  your  tears.  Perhaps  I 
shall  stand  before  you  as  one  from  the  grave  —  but 
you  will  be  glad  to  see  me  —  will  understand  all  in- 
stantly. With  the  devotion  of  a  lifetime,  I'll  re- 
pay you  for  whatever  you  may  have  endured  in  my 
absence.  And  I've  been  true  to  you,  my  darling  ! 
I  could  have  loved  L,a  Violette,  had  I  not  loved  you. 
When  I  leave  you  again,  I'll  leave  you  my  wife. 
Then  temptation  will  not  dare  to  assail  me.  I'll 
brook  no  opposition  now  —  no  delay.  You  shall  be 
mine  —  mine  at  once.  Ah,  the  old  love  wells  ttp  in 
my  heart !  " 

Then,  sighing,  he  shook  his  head  and  whispered 
very  softly : 

' '  But  poor  little  I/a  Violette  —  dear,  sweet,  little 
wild  violet !  How  my  heart  bleeds  for  her  !  But  I 
mustn't  think  of  her  now.  No  —  no  !  I  must  have 
but  one  thought  in  my  mind  —  Amy  ! ' ' 

He  had  reached  the  farthe_r  margin  of  the  strip  of 
woodland  that  skirted  the  river.  The  clearing  was 
18 


274  T&E  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

before  him.  The  stars  were  shining  brightly.  By 
their  faint  radiance,  he  dimly  discerned  the  house 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  cleared  space.  But  no 
welcoming  light  streamed  from  window  or  door. 
All  was  darkness  —  silence.  His  heart  almost  stood 
still  ;  a  sense  of  suffocation  came  over  him.  A 
thousand  mad  thoughts  and  fancies  ran  riot  in  his 
brain.  He  leaned  heavily  upon  his  rifle  and  shiv- 
ered—  though  the  evening  air  was  warm. 

The  red  rim  of  the  moon  rose  above  the  tree-tops 
beyond  the  clearing.  Then,  big  and  round,  it 
floated  upward  and  shed  its  gentle  light  upon  the 
scene. 

But  still  Ross  did  not  stir.  He  stood  with  his 
eyes  riveted  upon  the  cabin  —  now  clearly  outlined 
in  the  moonlight.  To  his  sensitive  ears,  came  the 
faint,  faraway  echo  of  laughter  from  the  village 
above.  It  seemed  to  mock  him,  like  the  eerie  voice 
of  a  departed  spirit.  Of  a  sudden,  Duke  tilted  his 
nose  aloft  and  howled  mournfully.  The  sound 
startled  Douglas  and  recalled  him  from  his  reverie. 
He  glanced  apprehensively  into  the  surrounding 
shadows,  as  if  expecting  to  see  a  ghost.  A  sense 
of  utter  loneliness  such  as  he  had  never  known  took 
possession  of  him.  The  hound  crept  to  his  side  and 
whimpered ;  and,  in  the  woods  beyond,  a  screech 
owl  thrice  repeated  its  petulant,  mournful  cry. 

Impatiently  shaking  himself,  Ross  muttered 
angrily  : 

' '  Bah  !  I'm  a  nervous  fool.  I'll  know  the 
worst  —  and  at  once. ' ' 


THE   SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  275 

Resolutely  he  strode  toward  the  cabin  door,  a  few 
rods  away.  On  reaching  it,  he  did  not  hesitate,  but 
thundered  loudly  upon  it,  with  his  bare  knuckles. 
The  only  answer  he  received  was  the  hollow  echo 
of  his  raps.  He  felt  for  the  latchstring  ;  and,  find- 
ing it,  gave  it  a  vigorous  pull.  The  door  swung 
inward  so  suddenly  that  he  recoiled  a  step,  "expect- 
ing some  person  to  face  him.  But  no  one  put  in  an 
appearance.  The  interior  was  in  absolute  dark- 
ness. A  musty,  disagreeable  smell  —  the  odor  of  a 
room  long  closed  to  air  and  sunlight  —  greeted  his 
nostrils.  Boldly  he  stepped  over  the  sill  and  stood 
upon  the  puncheon  floor.  It  creaked  to  his  tread  ; 
his  heavy  footfalls  rang  out  with  startling  distinct- 
ness. The  house  was  empty  —  deserted  ! 

Ivike  a  lost  soul  pursued  by  a  legion  of  demons, 
Ross  Douglas  fled  from  the  cabin,  leaving  the  door 
ajar.  With  bowed  head  and  drawn  features,  he 
sped  into  the  forest  back  of  the  house,  and  hurried 
on  and  on,  taking  no  heed  of  his  course.  The 
hound  wonderingly  followed  him.  Ross  had  for- 
gotten his  hunger,  his  fatigue  —  everything  but  the 
fact  that  Amy  was  gone.  Wild  fancies  beset  his 
brain.  Mocking  voices  gibbered  in  his  ears ;  evil 
faces  peeped  at  him  from  the  surrounding  gloom. 
At  last,  from  sheer  exhaustion,  he  dropped  upon 
the  earth  and  pillowed  his  aching  head  upon  his 
folded  arms.  Duke  crouched  at  his  master's  side 
and  anxiously  observed  his  every  movement. 

' '  Gone  —  gone  ! ' '  the  young  man  moaned  in 
agony  of  spirit  ' '  And  whether  true  or  false  I 


276  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

don't  know.  Gone  —  What  can  it  mean?  Amy  ! 
Amy  !  Night  after  night  during  my  dreary  cap- 
tivity, I  dreamed  of  you.  And  now  you're  not 
here.  But  I'm  wronging  you,  dear  girl  —  of 
course  I  am.  You've  been  forced  to  leave  —  you 
wouldn't  have  gone  otherwise.  Then  I  have  lost 
you  forever  !  God  help  me  to  bear  my  bitter  dis- 
appointment !  " 

Far  into  the  night,  he  lay  moaning  —  striving  to 
reconcile  himself  to  the  inevitable,  to  regain  control 
of  himself.  Worn  out  at  last,  he  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep —  the  sleep  of  mental  and  physical  exhaustion. 

At  daylight  he  awoke,  and  stiffly  arose  to  his  feet. 
His  face  was  pale  and  haggard;  his  lips  were  set  and 
determined.  Shouldering  his  rifle  and  calling  to  his 
dog,  he  retraced  his  steps  toward  the  riven  Again 
he  reached  the  clearing  surrounding  the  deserted 
cabin.  In  the  gray  light  of  the  morning,  the  scene 
was  more  barren,  more  oppressive,  than  when  soft- 
ened by  the  shades  of  night.  He  shuddered  and 
involuntarily  turned  his  head,  as  he  passed  the 
desolate  habitation.  With  quick,  firm  steps,  he 
hurried  along  the  path  leading  down  to  the  shore. 
A  half  hour  later,  he  had  recrossed  the  stream  and 
was  approaching  the  village. 

The  stui  was  just  rising.  He  saw  the  blue  smoke 
ascending  heavenward  and  heard  the  prattle  of 
children.  Emerging  from  the  forest,  he  stood  for  a 
moment  drinking  in  the  beauties  of  the  homely, 
animated  scene.  Oddly-garbed  figures,  bearing 
axes,  hoes,  and  other  implements  of  husbandry* 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  277 

were  hurrying  toward  the  woods  and  fields;  buxom 
matrons  and  comely  maids  were  bustling  hither  and 
thither.  Another  day  had  dawned;  and  the  indus- 
trious hive  was  astir. 

A  tall,  robust  settler  approached  the  border  of  the 
woodland,  where  Ross  was  standing.  The  young 
man  stepped  from  the  shadowof  the  overhanging 
boughs  —  and  he  and  the  villager  were  face  to  face. 
With  a  glad  cry  of  recognition,  the  latter  sprang  for- 
ward, exclaiming  : 

"  Ross  Douglas,  as  I'm  alive  !  Give  us  y'r  hand, 
my  lad  ! " 

The  two  warmly  clasped  hands,  and  Ross  replied  : 

"Yes,  Amos  Pritchard,  it's  I  —  Ross  Douglas. 
Are  you  glad  to  see  me  ? ' ' 

"Glad  to  see  you?"  yelled  the  other,  dancing 
around  in  delight.  ' '  What  a  question  1  Of  course 
I'm  glad  to  see  you.  Everybody II  be  glad  to  see 
you.  But  where  in  the*  world  have  you  been  so 
long — what  'ave  you  been  doin'  with  y'rself  ?  We'd 
all  give  you  up  fer  dead.  We  knowed  you  went  to 
fight  with  Gener'l  Harrison;  an'  as  you  didn't 
come  back  an'  we  didn't  hear  uothin'  of  you,  we 
c'ncluded  you  was  dead.  You  was  at  the  battle  o' 
Tippecanoe?  " 

"  Yes,"  Douglas  answered  briefly. 

"  Well,  where've  you  been  sence?  " 

"  A  prisoner  among  the  Indfens." 

Pritchard  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  and  ejacu- 
lated : 

"  You  don't  say  !  " 


278  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Ross  nodded  and  smiled  —  a  wan,  sad  smile. 

1 '  Ever  sence  the  battle,  last  November  ?  ' '  the 
man  inquired. 

Again  Douglas  nodded. 

"An'  where's  y'r  comrades,  Joe  Farley  an'  that 
young  Wyandot?" 

"Haven't  they  returned ?"  Ross  asked  quickly. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  We  hain't  seen  n'r  heard  noth- 
in'  of  any  of  you,  till  this  minute." 

"Then  I  fear  they're  dead,  or  prisoners  among 
the  Winnebagoes. " 

And  Douglas  gave  his  companion  a  brief  account 
of  the  battle  and  subsequent  events.  However,  he 
said  nothing  of  his  own  wonderful  experience  while 
a  prisoner,  made  no  mention  of  Bradford  or  of  L,a  Vio- 
lette.  When  he  had  finished  his  short  recital,  he 
asked  in  as  careless  a  tone  as  he  could  assume : 

' '  How  have  things  gone  in  my  absence,  Pritch- 
ard?" 

"Much  better 'n  they  have  with  you,"  was  the 
rejoinder,  "  judgin'  from  y'r  looks.  You're  ragged 
and  hungry-lookin' — an'  that  surly  bloodhound  o' 
yours  looks  all  fagged  out,  too.  I  take  it  you've 
had  a  purty  rough-an' -tumble  time  of  it.  Cani- 
paignin'  'g'inst  Injins  ain't  no  holiday,  I  guess. 
You'd  better  go  right  down  to  my  shack,  an'  git 
somethin'  to  eat ;  an'  then  take  a  sleep  fer  a  week 
'r  so.  Go  on  —  you  know  where  I  live.  The  ol' 
woman  '11  fill  you  up  on  the  fat  o'  the  land.  She 
alluz  did  have  a  soft  place  in  her  heart,  fer  )^ou  an' 
y'r  dog. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  279 

' '  But  you  haven't  told  me  the  news  of  the  set- 
tlement," Ross  objected. 

' '  The  news  '11  keep, ' '  Pritchard  returned.  ' '  Any- 
how, ther'  ain't  much  to  tell.  Some  new  settlers 
has  come  in;  an'  some  o'  the  old  ones  has  left.  Ol' 
Sam  I,arkin  was  the  biggest  s'rprise  to  us."  —  Ross 
pricked  up  his  ears. —  "  He  sold  out  an' left  —  le's 
see.  It  was  in  October  after  you  left  in  August. 
Took  everybody  by  s'rprise  —  that's  a  fact.  He 
had  one  o'  the  best  an'  biggest  pieces  o'  land  'long 
the  valley — as  you  know  —  an'  plenty  o'  money; 
but  somehow  he  wasn't  satisfied.  Some  folks  says 
his  title  to  the  land  wasn't  clear.  I  don't  know. 
Anyhow  he  jest  sold  off  everything  fer  what  it 
would  bring,  an'  skipped  out.  Some  feller  from 
down  'bout  the  Ohio  bought  the  land  —  but  he 
hain't  moved  onto  it  yit.  Well,  I  must  be  moseyin' 
to  work.  You  go  on  down  to  the  cabin." 

"  Where  did  he  go  ?  "  Douglas  inquired,  moisten- 
ing his  lips  with  his  tongue. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Pritchard  answered  as  he 
changed  his  axe  from  one  shoulder  to  the  other. 
"  Some  says  he  went  back  to  his  ol'  home  in  western 
Pennsylvany.  Nobody  'pears  to  know.  But  wher- 
ever he  went,  that  sneakin'  Canadian,  George 
Milliard,  went  along." 

' '  And  —  and  his  daughter,  Amy  ?  ' ' 

' '  Of  course.  But  what  're  you  so  concerned 
'  bout  'em  fer,  Ross  Douglas  ?  Oh  !  I  see. ' '  —  And 
the  settler  smiled  knowingly.  —  "I  remember  now 
you  was  sprucin'  up  to  that  little  gal  o'  ol'  Sam's. 


280  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Well,  I'm  'feared  you've  lost  her,  my  boy.  Hilliard 
was  keepin'  the  trail  hot  the  same  time  you  was, 
an'  you  leavin'  when  you  did  give  him  the  short 
cut  'cross  the  clearin'.  I  'spect  he's  married  her 
long  'fore  this.  The  fact  is,  some  folks  says  the 
couple  was  married  on  the  sly,  'fore  they  left  these 
parts.  Of  course,  /  don't  know.  But  I  must  be 
gittin'  to  work,  'r  I  won't  earn  my  dinner.  I'll  see 
you  at  noon.  You're  goin'  to  stay  'round  fer  a  few 
weeks,  anyhow,  ain't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don'*t  know  yet,"  Douglas  truthfully  replied. 

The  young  man  walked  toward  the  collection  of 
cabins  not  far  away,  leaving  his  companion  staring 
after  him. 

"  If  I  ain't  bad  fooled,"  Pritchard  muttered  as  he 
entered  the  woods,  ' '  that  young  feller  is  purty 
much  in  love  with  ol'  Sam  Larkin's  gal;  an'  her 
goin'  off  the  way  she  did  is  worryin'  him  like  all 
possessed. ' ' 

For  several  days  Douglas  lingered  about  the  vil- 
lage. He  visited  the  Wyandot  camp  up  the  river; 
but  found  it  abandoned.  His  red  friends  had  left 
for  parts  unknown.  Undoubtedly  some  of  them  had 
cast  in  their  lots  with  Tecumseh,  and  were  aiding 
in  harassing  the  posts  and  settlements  upon  the  ex- 
treme frontier. 

During  his  brief  stay  at  Franklinton,  Ross  made 
many  cautious  inquiries  concerning  the  whereabouts 
of  Amy  I^arkin  and  her  father;  but  he  learned 
nothing  more  definite  than  what  Pritchard  had  told 
him.  Many  times  he  had  heard  his  sweetheart  speak 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  281 

of  her  birthplace  in  western  Pennsylvania  ;  and  now 
he  resolved  to  visit  that  section  of  the  country.  He 
discarded  his  well-worn  suit  of  buckskin,  for  gar- 
ments of  homespun  cloth  ;  and,  with  his  rifle  upon 
his  shoulder  and  his  bloodhound  at  his  heels,  set 
out  upon  his  quest. 

After  an  absence  of  four  mouths,  he  again  returned 
to  the  settlement  upon  the  Scioto,  having  learned 
nothing  of  the  persons  he  sought. 

General  Harrison  was  now  commander-in-chief  of 
the  Western  armies.  He  had  established  temporary 
headquarters  at  Franklinton,  and  was  busily  en- 
gaged in  collecting  and  forwarding  supplies  toward 
the  lakes.  Douglas  was  greatly  pleased  to  learn  of 
his  beloved  commander's  presence  in  the  village, 
and  immediately  repaired  to  his  quarters.  The  gen- 
eral was  surprised  and  delighted  to  see  him,  and 
said  : 

1 '  Ross  Douglas,  I  can't  express  how  glad  I  am 
to  meet  you  again  — to  see  you  alive  and  well. 
When  you  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Indians  at  Tip- 
pecanoe,  I  gave  you  up  for  lost.  You  appear  as 
one  from  the  grave.  Where  have  you  been,  how 
did  you  escape,  and  what  of  your  faithful  com- 
rades ? ' ' 

Briefly  Ross  told  of  his  capture  and  escape,  care- 
fully avoiding  all  mention  of  L,a  Violette  and  Brad- 
ford. General  Harrison  listened  attentively  to 
the  narrative,  uttering  frequent  exclamations  of 
surprise  and  incredulity.  When  the  younger  man 
had  concluded,  the  older  remarked  : 


282  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  And  your  comrades  —  Farley  and  the  Wyandot 
—  you  don't  know  their  fate  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,"  Ross  answered  sadly.  "  But  they 
are  dead,  or  prisoners  among  the  Winnebagoes. " 

"Too  bad — too  bad  !"  the  general  murmured 
feelingly.  ' '  They  were  noble  fellows  and  devoted 
to  you ' ' 

Then  with  animation  : 

' '  But  your  dog  —  the  bloodhound  that  was  your 
constant  companion  ?  " 

"  He's  in  the  village  with  me." 

While  Douglas  was  speaking,  he  unconsciously 
toyed  with  the  ring  upon  his  ringer.  At  last  Harri- 
son fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  glittering  jewel,  and  re- 
marked : 

' '  That's  a  beautiful  and  valuable  ring  you  wear, 
my  young  friend.  May  I  ask  you  to  let  me  see  it?  " 

Silently  Douglas  drew  it  off  and  placed  it  in  his 
companion's  outstretched  hand.  Scarcely  had  it 
dropped  into  Harrison's  palm,  ere  he  started  and 
cried  : 

"Douglas,  where  did  you  get  this?  " 

Ross  was  disconcerted.  His  face  flushed  as  he 
stammered  : 

"A  —  a  friend  gave  it  to  me,  General." 

"  And  where  did  your  friend  get  it?  "  the  com- 
mander demanded  excitedly. 

"I  —  I ' '  Ross  began  ;  but  Harrison  inter- 
rupted. 

"There  —  you  needn't  tell  me.  However,  I 
know  the  ring.  I  can't  be  mistaken.  Several 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  283 

years  ago  I  saw  it  upon  the  finger  of  Tenskwatawa, 
the  Shawnee  Prophet,  when  he  came  to  visit  me  at 
Vincennes.  At  that  time  I  took  note  of  its  beauty 
and  value.  He  told  me  it  was  a  gift  from  an  Eng- 
lish officer,  who  had  obtained  it  in  the  far  East,  and 
hinted  to  me  that  it  was  possessed  of  some  magic 
power.  That  stone  "  • — tapping  the  gem  with  his 
finger,  —  "is  a  diamond  of  the  first  water.  It's 
quite  large,  as  you  see,  and  worth  a  considerable 
sum  of  money.  You  are  fortunate  to  possess  so 
valuable  and  beautiful  an  ornament." 

With  the  words,  he  returned  the  ring  to  Douglas. 
The  latter  sat  looking  at  the  jewel  for  some  mo- 
ments. Then  raising  his  eyes  to  the  commander's 
face,  he  said  earnestly  : 

"  General,  I  haven't  told  you  all  concerning  my 
captivity  among  the  Prophet's  warriors.  Would 
you  like  to  hear  the  story  in  full  ?  ' ' 

"  If  you  don't  mind  telling  me,  Douglas  —  yes," 
was  the  smiling  reply. 

For  an  hour  they  sat  in  the  commander's  quar- 
ters —  the  younger  man  calmly  talking,  the  older 
gravely  listening.  At  last  Douglas  finished  and 
arose  to  go. 

"  Wonderful  !  "  Harrison  exclaimed  as  he  got 
upon  his  feet.  "  Your  story  sounds  like  a  mythical 
tale  of  the  long  ago.  And  yet  if  I  desired  proof  of 
its  truthfulness  —  which  I  do  not  —  you  have  it  with 
you.  Keep  the  ring,  my  boy,  in  remembrance  of 
the  perils  and  adventures  through  which  you  have 


284  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

passed.  I  trust  that  in  your  possession  — whatever 
its  magic  power  —  it  may  not  work  the  evil  to  our 
country,  it  has  done  in  the  hands  of  the  Prophet. 
Tenskwatawa  — 'a  wizard,  a  sorcerer,  a  cowardly 
cur.  Hiram  Bradford  —  an  English  agent  among 
the  Indians,  a  spy  among  the  Americans,  your  foe 
—  your  friend.  La  Violette  —  an  untutored  sav- 
age, a  refined  and  intelligent  white  woman.  What 
characters  for  a  romance  —  a  drama  !  And  yet 
they  are  actual  inhabitants  of  these  Western 
wilds." 

Then  suddenly  riveting  his  keen  gaze  upon 
Douglas's  handsome  face  : 

"What  is  your  purpose  now  —  what  are  you 
going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  offer  my  services  to  you,  General," 
was  the  answer. 

The  commander  meditatively  rubbed  his  chin  for 
some  seconds.  At  last  he  said  : 

' '  There  will  be  but  little  active  campaigning 
until  spring  opens.  Then  the  war  will  begin  in 
earnest  —  and  I  shall  need  you.  However,  there 
will  be  expeditions  sent  out  against  the  troublesome 
savages,  all  through  the  winter.  By  the  way,  I'm 
going  to  send  Colonel  Campbell  against  the  vil- 
lages upon  the  Mississinewa,  this  month.  Would 
you  care  to  go  as  guide  and  scout  ?  ' ' 

"  I  should  be  greatly  pleased  to  go,"  Ross  an- 
swered simply. 

But  his  heart  was  beating  wildly.     The  thought 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  285 

was  in  his  mind,  that  he  might  again  meet  I^a 
Violette  —  and,  perhaps,  persuade  her  to  return 
with  him  to  Franklinton. 

He  heard  the  commander  saying  : 

"The  place  is  yours,  then.  The  companies  of 
the  expedition  will  assemble  at  Greenville.  You 
can  join  them  there.  Here's  your  commission. 
Shall  I  bid  you  good-by  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Ross  answered  decidedly. 

They  shook  hands  and  parted. 

Douglas  accompanied  Colonel  Campbell's  detach- 
ment. He  took  part  in  the  several  skirmishes  of 
the  winter  campaign,  and  saw  much  hard  service. 
In  the  various  petty  engagements,  quite  a  number 
of  Indians  were  killed  and  captured.  From  the  red 
prisoners,  Ross  learned  that  Tenskwatawa,  I^a 
Violette,  and  Bradford  had  left  the  Miami  villages, 
shortly  after  his  departure,  and  had  gone  to  join 
Tecumseh  at  Maiden. 

Colonel  Campbell  destroyed  the  towns  upon  the 
Mississinewa,  and  in  the  latter  part  of  December 
returned  to  Greenville. 

From  this  place,  Ross  Douglas  went  to  Cincinnati. 
He  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  returning  to 
Franklinton.  He  was  disheartened,  moody,  and 
restless.  So  far  as  he  knew,  Amy  I^arkin  was  lost 
to  him  forever.  Had  she  been  false  to  her  vows  ? 
He  did  not  know  ;  and  the  maze  of  uncertainty 
maddened  him. 

He  spent  the  winter  at  Cincinnati.  When  spring 
opened,  he  and  Duke  —  wanderers  upon  the  face  of 


286  THE  SIGN   OF   THE  PROPHET 

the  planet  —  drifted  int6  Kentucky,  where  General 
Green  Clay  was  raising  a  regiment  of  militia  to  re- 
enforce  the  garrison  of  Fort  Meigs,  upon  the 
Maumee.  Douglas  joined  the  command  in  his  old 
capacity  of  scout  and  guide,  and  with  it  marched 
toward  the  seat  of  war. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN  THE  latter  part  of  April,  1813,  General  Harrison, 
commander-in-chief  of  the  Western  troops,  was 
at  Fort  Meigs,  upon  the  Maumee. 

War  between  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain 
had  been  declared  in  June,  1812.  In  July,  Fort 
Mackinaw  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  English  ; 
in  August,  Hull  had  basely  surrendered  at  Detroit, 
and  the  Americans  had  met  defeat  at  the  River 
Raisin.  In  the  early  autumn — September — the 
Prophet's  braves  had  laid  siege  to  Forts  Wayne  and 
Harrison,  but  had  been  unsuccessful  at  both  places. 
Thus  had  closed  the  year. 

In  the  early  part  of  1813,  the  Western  campaign 
had  opened  in  earnest.  In  January,  General  Win- 
chester had  been  defeated  and  captured  at  French- 
town.  Immediately  following  this  battle  —  or 
massacre,  rather  —  General  Harrison  had  moved 
forward  to  the  rapids  of  the  Maumee,  and  begun  the 
construction  of  Fort  Meigs.  Here  he  had  assem- 
bled all  the  troops  at  his  disposal,  intending  to 
recover  the  ground  lost  through  Hull's  cowardice 
a°nd  Winchester's  incapacity.  But  the  weather  had 
continued  unfavorable  ;  and  the  commander  had 
returned  to  the  interior  of  the  state,  with  the  view 
of  raising  re-enforcements.  Hardly  had  he  set  to 

(287) 


288  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

work,  however,  when  he  received  word  that  a 
large  force  of  the  enemy  was  marching  to  attack 
the  garrison  upon  the  Maumee.  The  general  had 
returned  with  all  possible  expedition,  arriving  at 
the  fort  on  the  twentieth  of  April. 

Fort  Meigs  —  so  named  in  honor  of  the  illustrious 
governor  of  Ohio  —  was  situated  upon  the  south 
bank  of  the  Maumee,  at  the  foot  of  the  rapids.  It 
stood  upon  high  ground,  about  sixty  feet  above  the 
surface  of  the  river ;  and  its  walls  of  earth  and 
heavy  timbers  inclosed  nearly  ten  acres.  In  outline 
it  resembled  an  irregular  "D" — the  curved  por- 
tion of  the  letter  facing  the  stream.  At  each  of  the 
angles  of  the  outer  wall,  was  a  strong  blockhouse  ; 
and  traverses  of  earth  were  thrown  up  inside  of  the 
inclosure,  to  protect  the  occupants  from  the  shells  of 
an  attacking  army.  The  fort  was  a  depot  of  stores 
of  all  kinds,  for  the  approaching  campaign  ;  and  at 
the  time  of  General  Harrison's  return  from  the  in- 
terior was  garrisoned  by  about  five  hundred  men  — 
regulars  and  volunteers. 

After  his  arrival,  on  the  twentieth  of  April,  the 
commander  kept  patrols  out,  watching  for  the  en- 
emy. On  the  twenty-sixth,  he  was  apprised  that 
the  advance  guard  was  approaching.  A  few  hours 
later,  a  number  of  white  men  and  Indians  appeared 
on  the  opposite  shore,  and  coolly  and  critically  in- 
spected the  fortification.  On  the  twenty -seventh,  a 
party  of  savages  crossed  to  the  south  side  of  the 
stream,  and  annoyed  the  garrison  with  a  desultory 
rifle-fire.  But  little  damage  was  done ;  and  the 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  289 

general  and  his  men  feverishly  awaited  the  appear- 
ance of  the  main  body  of  the  enemy  —  which  they 
knew  was  not  far  away. 

The  morning  of  the  twenty-eighth  was  clear,  and 
gave  promise  of  a  beautiful  day.  But  the  wind 
sweeping  up  from  the  lake  was  raw  and  chill.  The 
soldiers  within  the  fort  were  astir  at  an  early  hour. 
To  their  unbounded  surprise,  they  could  discover 
nothing  of  their  enemies  of  the  day  before.  Some 
of  the  officers  and  men  were  of  the  opinion  that  the 
Indians,  discouraged  by  their  ill-success,  had  gone 
to  meet  their  brethren  and  allies  and  inform  them 
the  place  could  not  be  taken.  But  General  Harri- 
son did  not  harbor  such  belief.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  felt  that  the  withdrawal  of  the  small  band 
of  savages  portended  a  systematic  attack  by  a  large 
force  —  an  attack  he  was  not  well  able  to  withstand. 
So  he  sent  Captain  Hamilton  and  a  squad  of  men 
down  the  river,  on  a  reconnoitering  expedition. 
Then  drawing  his  cloak  around  his  shoulders,  and 
restlessly  pacing  up  and  down  the  inclosure,  he  in- 
wardly condemned  the  niggardly  and  dilatory  policy 
of  the  government,  and  prayed  that  re-enforcements 
might  arrive  in  time  to  save  him  from  an  igno- 
minious surrender. 

His  face  wore  an  anxious  and  worried  expression  ; 
but  his  thin  lips  were  firmly  set,  his  keen  eyes 
shone  with  the  fire  of  an  indomitable  purpose.  The 
soldiers — every  one  of  whom  loved  him  and  had  un- 
bounded confidence  in  him — looking  upon  him, 
knew  that  no  white  flag  would  float  over  Fort 
19 


290  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Meigs,  as  long  as  there  was  a  man  left  to  load  and 
fire  a  gun.  And  each  one  of  them  —  from  the 
highest  officer  to  the  meanest  subaltern  —  resolved 
to  die  like  a  hero. 

Near  one  of  the  blockhouses  at  the  eastern  ex- 
tremity of  the  fort,  stood  a  white  man  and  an  In- 
dian. The  former  was  slightly  past  middle  age, 
tall,  stooped,  and  ungainly.  The  latter  was  much 
younger,  lithe,  strong,  and  straight  as  an  arrow. 
For  some  time  they  stood  silently  watching  the 
commander,  as  he  paced  to  and  fro.  At  last  the 
white  man  blew  his  long  nose  vigorously,  wiped  the 
tears  from  his  eyes  with  the  back  of  his  horny  hand, 
and,  screwing  his  homely  features  into  a  comical 
grimace,  said  in  a  drawling  tone  : 

"  Injin,  the  sight  o'  the  ol'  Gener'l  makes  me  sad 
—  makes  me  think  o'  him  that's  dead  an'  gone." 

' '  Ugh  !  ' '  his  red  companion  grunted  stolidly. 
But  the  copper-colored  face  twitched  ;  the  bare  and 
brawny  chest  heaved. 

"Yes,"  the  speaker  continued,  "the  sight  o' 
Gener'l  Harrison  calls  up  things  I  wish  I  could 
fergit  —  it  does,  by  cracky  !  Gol-fer-socks  !  I 
can't  fergit  'em  —  not  if  I  lived  to  be  as  old  as 
Methusaler, —  'r  was  it  Nebbycaneezer  ?  I'm  a  little 
rusty  on  Scriptur',  an'  liable  to  git  mixed,  some- 
how. But,  pshaw  !  The  past  is  gone  —  an'  gone 
ferever.  The  comrade  we  both  loved  is  dead. 
Didn'  t  we  see  him  shot  through  the  heart  ?  No  — 
come  to  think  of  it  —  he  wasn't  shot  through  the 
heart;  'cause  he  was  shot  in  the  right  side  —  an' 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  291 

the  heart's  on  the  left  side,  in  most  human  critters. 
But  he  was  dead,  anyhow  —  killed  by  the  danged 
Winnebagoes  ! ' ' 

Again  the  speaker  paused  long  enough  to  blow 
his  nose  and  wipe  his  watery  eyes.  Then  he  re- 
sumed in  the  same  mournful,  sing-song  voice  : 

"Though  I  seen  him  dyin'  with  my  own  eyes, 
Injin,  sometimes  I  find  myself  thinkin'  he's  still 
alive — I  do,  by  Matildy  Jane!  I've  dream'd  o' 
him  nights  so  much,  it  'pears  to  me  he  can't  be 
dead.  But,  of  course,  he  is.  'Cause  why  ?  We 
left  him  dyin'.  Well,  it  don't  do  no  good  to  grieve. 
But  ther's  one  thing  I'd  like  to  know  right  smart 

—  an'  that's  what  become  o'  the  dog." 

"  Ugh  !  "  ejaculated  the  Indian,  nodding.  "  Me 
heap  like  know  where  hound.  Much  good  dog 

—  sight  big  brave. ' ' 

The  white  man  went  on  : 

"An'  dang-it-all-to-dingnation  !  Here  we  are  — 
jest  got  back  from  eighteen  months  o'  traipsin' 
from  one  Winnebago  town  to  another,  all  over 
God's  creation,  all  over  the  Northwest  —  an'  we're 
right  plump  into  another  hornets'  nest.  Talk 
'bout  jumpin'  out  o'  the  fryin'  pan  into  the  fire  ! 
We've  jumped  out  o'  ice  water  into  b'ilin'  oil. 
Here  we've  been  drug  'round  fer  a  year  an'  a  half, 
beat  and  starved  an'  cuffed  every  day  in  the  week 

—  an'  give  a  double  dose  on  Sundays.     My  heart's 
been  in  my  mouth  so  much,  I've  chawed  off  one  end 
of  it  an'  spit  it  out  with  my  tobacker  —  I  have,  by 
my  gran'father's    barn-door  britches  !      An'    now 


292  THE  SIGN  OF    THE  PROPHET 

we'  ve  made  our  escape  at  last  —  got  halfway  back 
from  p'rdition  to  glory  —  we're  in  another  peck  o' 
trouble. 

"As  near  as  I  can  learn  from  the  talk  that's 
goin'  on  'mong  the  soldiers,  Gener'l  Proctor  an' 
Tecumseh's  comin'  to  attack  this  place  —  with  not 
less'n  three  thousan'  white  an'  red  devils.  Three 
thousan'  to  five  hundred  !  A  purty  pickle  — 
I  swear!  Wy,  hang-it-up-an'-take-it-down-an'- 
cook-it !  They'll  eat  us  up  without  salt  'r  pepper  ! 
'Cause  Ol'  Tippecauoe'll  never  surrender  —  he  don't 
know  how.  He's  jest  like  ol'  Mad  Anthony  — 
they  say  he  trained  under  that  ol'  war  hoss  —  an' 
he'll  fight  as  long  as  he's  got  an  ounce  of  lead  left, 
an'  a  flintlock  to  shoot  it  in.  Look  at  him  now, 
Bright  Wing.  He's  ev'ry  inch  a  soldier,  ain'  t  he  ?  " 

"Ugh!"  the  imperturbable  Wyandot  assented. 
' '  Tippecanoe  him  heap  sight  brave.  Him  kill  many 
bad  Shawnees,  Winnebagoes,  Pottawatomies.  Him 
fight  till  me,  you  —  all  dead. ' ' 

"  Well,"  Farley  groaned  resignedly,  "  I  s'posewe 
can  stand  it,  if  the  rest  of  'em  can.  But  the  good 
Lord  knows  we've  stood  'bout  enough  !  Dodrot 
it !  Sometimes  I  think  the  Lord  has  sent  all  my 
latter  trials  an'  tribulations  upon  me,  fer  growlin' 
'bout  whackin'  them  bulls  from  Fort  Harrison 
to  the  Prophet's  Town  —  I  do,  by  flapjacks!  An' 
then  ag'in  I  git  to  thinkin'  my  punishment  is  jest 
the  natur'l  result  o'  the  heartless  way  I've  used  the 
women  folks.  W'y,  Injin,  I  used  to  be  a  reg'lar 
heart-breaker.  I  didn't  have  no  mercy  on  the 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  293 

unfortunates  that  bowed  down  an'  worshiped  my 
beautiful  face  an'  form.  I  was  a  reg'lar  Apoller  in 
them  days,  I  was  —  purty  as  a  pictur'.  But  look 
at  me  now  !  Whackin'  bulls  an'  sufferin'  Injin  tor- 
ment has  jest  'bout  ruined  me.  Where's  my  purty 
hair,  eh  ?  An'  look  at  this  nose,  an'  these  ears,  an' 
this  face  !  Injin,  my  beauty's  suffered  a  blightin' 
frost — it  has,  by  my  gran'mother's  petticoat  ! 
W'y,  ding-it-all-to-dangnation  !  A  few  more  hard 
knocks,  an'  I  won't  look  no  better' n  the  average 
man  —  I  won't,  by  ginger  !  An'  to  think  that  an 
Injin  squaw  —  the  oldest  an'  ugliest  one  in  the 
whole  Winnebago  tribe  —  follered  an'  tagged  me 
from  Dan  to  Barsheber  !  Follered  an'  tagged  me 
till  I  couldn't  eat  n'r  sleep  —  an'  the  frogs  inside  o' 
me  jest  natur'ly  got  disgusted  an'  quit  business.  It 
was  awful  —  awful  !  Injin,  clap  y'r  eyes  upon  me 
an'  tell  me  what  I've  done  to  deserve  such  a  fate." 

And  Joe  solemnly  lifted  his  well-worn  coonskin 
cap  and  faced  his  companion. 

Bright  Wing  looked  upon  his  loquacious  and 
whimsical  friend  and  smiled,  while  his  beady  eyes 
twinkled  ;  but  he  said  nothing. 

Farley  was  indeed  a  comical  object.  His  cloth- 
ing hung  in  tatters  upon  his  angular  form  ;  his  toes 
peeped  from  his  cowhide  shoes.  During  his  captivity, 
the  Winnebagoes  had  essayed  the  hapless  task  of 
making  an  Indian  of  him.  They  had  plucked  out 
his  scant  hair,  leaving  his  scalp  bare  and  shiny  — 
excepting  a  straw-colored  tuft  at  the  crown.  They 
had  pierced  his  nose  and  ears,  and  ornamented  those 


294  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

necessary  appendages  with  large  shell  rings.  And, 
to  complete  the  fantastic  whole,  had  tattooed  the 
totem  of  the  clan,  whose  prisoner  he  was,  in  blue 
ink  upon  his  forehead.  He  was  a  sight  to  excite 
mirth  and  commiseration  at  the  same  time. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  o'  my  looks,  any- 
how? "  he  asked,  when  Bright  Wing  had  finished 
his  silent  inspection  and  was  looking  toward  a  dis- 
tant part  of  the  inclosure. 

"  Joe  him  very  much  pretty  —  heap  nice  sight," 
the  Wyandot  chuckled  gutturally.  ' '  Him  Winne- 
bago  now  —  big  chief. ' ' 

"That's  it  — that's  it!"  Farley  moaned  lugu- 
briously. "  I  knowed  it  —  my  beauty's  gone  fer- 
ever  !  I'll  never  dare  to  peep  in  a  lookin' -glass 
ag'in  —  the  shock  'Id  be  too  much  fer  my  delicate 
constertution  to  bear.  By  King  David's  cross-eyed 
wives  !  But  my  punishment's  too  great  fer  mortal 
man  to  stand  !  Drivin'  oxen  an'  bein'  the  human 
habitation  of  a  colony  o'  frogs  wan't  enough  ;  the 
Winnebagoes  had  to  have  a  whack  at  me.  An' 
they've  finished  the  job " 

Then,  with  sudden  animation  : 

"  But  what  're  you  lookin'  at,  Injin?" 

Bright  Wing  silently  pointed  toward  the  command- 
er's  quarters  on  the  southern  side  of  the  inclosure. 
General  Harrison  was  just  entering  the  door  of  his 
tent,  and,  hurrying  toward  it,  were  an  officer  and  a 
number  of  soldiers. 

"That's  Cap'n  Hamilton  an'  his  squad,"  Joe 
cried  excitedly.  "They've  jest  got  back  from  the'r 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  295 

scoutitT  trip  down  the  river.  Now  we'll  know 
what's  comin'.  L,e's  mosey  out  that  way." 

Captain  Hamilton,  leaving  his  men  outside,  en- 
tered the  commander's  tent  and  stood  at  attention. 

"Well,  Captain,"  Harrison  remarked  calmly, 
"you're  back  soon.  What's  your  report  ?  " 

The  inferior  officer  saluted  and  replied  : 

"  Three  miles  down  the  river  we  came  upon  the 
main  body  of  the  enemy,  rapidly  advancing  in  this 
direction." 

"  Who's  in  command  ?  " 

"General  Proctor." 

"  And  Tecumseh  commands  the  savages?  " 

"He  does,  General." 

' '  Is  their  force  as  large  as  reported  ?  ' ' 

"  I  judge  from  what  I  saw  that  they  have  a  force 
of  fully  three  thousand  men  —  British  regulars, 
Canadian  militia,  and  Indians." 

' '  Are  they  well  supplied  with  heavy  artillery  ?  ' ' 

"  I  think  they  are,  General.  At  any  rate,  they 
have  some  heavy  pieces. ' ' 

' '  Is  that  all  you  were  able  to  learn  ?  ' ' 

"It  is,  General." 

' '  The  enemy  will  be  here  in  a  few  hours  at  the 
most,"  Harrison  remarked.  "They  mean  to  invest 
us  —  to  storm  us,  if  necessary.  Their  force  is  six 
times  that  of  ours.  But  we  must  repulse  them.  To 
surrender  means  to  lose  all  for  which  we  have 
planned  and  fought  —  and  to  court  death  at  the 
hands  of  the  savages.  If  General  Clay  and  his 
Kentuckians  were  only  here ' ' 


296  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Then  with  fiery  energy : 

"But  we  must  bestir  ourselves.  Captain,  go 
and  give  the  order  that  the  gates  be  tightly 
closed  at  once  —  after  a  supply  of  water,  sufficient 
to  last  several  days,  has  been  brought  from  the 
river. ' ' 

The  captain  saluted  and  withdrew.  Turning  to 
an  orderly  standing  near  the  door,  the  commander 
said  briskly : 

' '  Find  the  field  commissary,  Captain  William 
Oliver,  and  send  him  here." 

A  few  minutes  later  Captain  Oliver  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance. He  was  young  and  beardless,  but  strong, 
active,  and  courageous. 

By  this  time,  a  number  of  officers  had  gathered  at 
the  commander's  quarters  and  were  holding  animated 
conference  with  him.  All  looked  up  at  the  young 
Captain's  entrance.  Harrison  broke  off  in  the  mid- 
dle of  a  sentence  and,  advancing,  took  the  newcom- 
er's hand. 

' '  Captain  Oliver, ' '  he  said  solemnly,  ' '  you  know 
the  strait  in  which  we're  placed.  If  re-enforcements 
don't  arrive  within  a  few  days  this  place,  with  all 
its  stores,  will  inevitably  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
British.  Such  an  event  would  be  an  incalculable 
disaster.  It  mustn't  happen.  But  we  must  have 
help.  General  Green  Clay  is  on  his  way  hither, 
with  a  regiment  of  Kentucky  militia.  I  have  re- 
ceived word  that  he's  coming  by  way  of  the 
Auglaize.  At  the  present  time  he  must  be 
near  Fort  Winchester.  I've  decided  to  send 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  297 

a  dispatch  to  him,  apprising  him  of  the  condi- 
tion of  affairs  and  urging  him  to  hasten  to  our 
aid ;  and  I've  chosen  you  to  perform  the  perilous 
mission.  Your  brother  officers  approve  my  plan  — 
and  my  choice  of  messenger.  Are  you  willing  to 
venture  upon  the  hazardous  undertaking,  Captain 
Oliver?" 

The  assembled  officers  craned  their  necks,  and  lis- 
tened breathlessly  for  the  young  commissary's  re- 
ply. It  was  not  long  in  coming.  Firm  and  clear  his 
voice  rang  out : 

"I'll  go,  General  —  willingly  and  gladly.  I'll 
deliver  your  dispatch  into  General  Clay's  hands 
—  or  die  on  the  way. 

"  Thank  you,  Captain,"  Harrison  murmured,  his 
voice  soft  with  emotion. 

Then  quickly  : 

' '  How  soon  can  you  start  ?  ' ' 

"At  once,  General." 

' '  Very  well  —  the  sooner  the  better.  You  should 
be  beyond  reach  of  our  enemies  before  they  invest 
the  fort.  Make  your  preparations  and  return  in  a 
half  hour.  I'll  have  the  dispatch  ready  for  you. 
By  the  way,  how  many  men  do  you  want  ?  ' ' 

"  One,  General  —  a  guide." 

"  Hadn't  you  better  take  a  score  ?  " 

"They'd  be  of  no  use  to  me,  General  —  and 
you  need  them  here,"  was  the  firm  reply. 

' '  True, ' '  the  commander  returned  reflectively. 
"Well,  come  back  in  half  an  hour.  I'll  have 
everything  in  readiness. ' ' 


298  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Captain  Oliver  bowed  and  withdrew.  Just  out- 
side of  the  tent  he  encountered  Farley,  Bright 
Wing,  and  a  number  of  soldiers.  Awkwardly  lifting 
his  cap,  the  whimsical  Joe  stepped  forward  and 
asked  : 

"  Are  we  goin'  to  have  a  brush  with  the  Britishers 
an'  redskins,  Cap'n?" 

"  More  than  a  brush,  I  imagine,"  answered  the 
commissary,  edging  his  way  through  the  crowd. 

"  An'  what  're  we  goin'  to  do  ?  "  Farley  inquired. 

"  Fight,"  was  the  curt  response. 

Joe  was  nettled. 

"Any  fool'd  know  that,"  he  muttered;  "'spe- 
cially if  he'd  been  in  the  fight  o'  Tippecanoe  with 
theol'  Gener'l  — 

Captain  Oliver  stopped  suddenly  and,  wheeling 
around,  interrupted  : 

' '  You  were  with  General  Harrison  at  Tippeca- 
noe, my  friend  ?  ' ' 

"I  was,"  Farley  answered  proudly.  "Me  an' 
Bright  Wing,  here,  was  both  there." 

"From  your  dress  and  general  appearance,  I 
judge  you  are  a  woodman  —  a  hunter." 

"I  am  —  what  ther'  is  left  o'  me,  which  ain't 
very  much  sence  the  danged  Winnebagoes  sp'iled 
my  beauty." 

"You've  been  a  prisoner  among  the  Indians?  " 

"Yes —  both  of  us,  ever  sence  the  battle  o'  Tip- 
pecanoe. We  jest  escaped  —  jest  got  in  here  yister- 
day." 

"  Does  the  commander  know  you  ?  " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  299 

"  He  used  to — but  I  don't  s'pose  he  would  now. 
The  danged  Winnebagoes " 

Captain  Oliver  impatiently  interrupted: 

"I'm  going  on  a  journey.  Would  you  and  your 
red  friend  like  to  accompany  me?  " 

"That  d'pends,"  was  the  cautious  reply.  "  If  it's 
toward  the  Winnebago  country " 

"  Please  step  this  way,"  said  the  Captain,  pluck- 
ing Joe's  ragged  sleeve. 

When  they  were  beyond  earshot  of  the  others, 
the  officer  explained  : 

"I'm  going  on  a  perilous  mission.  I  want  some- 
one to  accompany  me  as  guide  —  someone  ac- 
quainted with  the  woods " 

"  Well,  where  're  you  goin'  ?  "  Joe  persisted. 

"I'm  going  to  meet  General  Clay,  who  is  com- 
ing by  way  of  the  Auglaize. " 

"  An'  you  want  me  an'  the  Injin  to  go  with  you, 
as  guides  ?  ' ' 

"  That's  it.     You're  an  American  ?  " 

"  Did  you  take  me  fer  a  Britisher?"  —  indig- 
nantly. 

"  And  you're  acquainted  with  the  country  up  and 
down  the  valley  ?  " 

' '  I  know  it  as  well  as  I  know  the  road  to  my  own 
mouth;  so  does  the  Injin  —  he's  a  Wyandot,  an; 
true  as  steel.  When  do  you  want  to  start  ?  " 

"  Immediately.     Will  you  go  with  me  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  the  Indian?" 

"Of  course." 


300  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  How  soon  can  you  be  ready  ?  " 

"We're  ready  now — if  we  only  had  guns  an' 
ammynition.  You  see,  when  we  got  away  from  the 
Winnebagoes  we  hadn't  nothin'  but  the  clo'es  on  our 
backs  —  which  ain't  much  to  speak  of."  — And  Joe 
glanced  ruefully  at  his  tattered  garments. —  "We 
lived  on  roots  an'  barks,  on  the  road  here.  Give  us 
guns  an'  ammynition,  an'  we're  with  you." 

"You  shall  have  what  you  want,"  was  the  de- 
cided reply.  ' '  Call  your  friend  and  come  with 
me." 

A  half  hour  later,  Captain  Oliver  and  his  chosen 
guides  passed  out  at  the  western  gate  of  the  fort, 
and  disappeared  in  the  dense  woods  upon  the  south- 
ern bank  of  the  river. 

An  hour  after  the  departure  of  the  brave  dispatch- 
bearer  and  his  two  comrades,  the  enemy  put  in  an 
appearance  upon  the  opposite  shore  of  the  stream. 
General  Harrison  pushed  the  work  upon  the  grand 
traverse.  This  was  a  wall  of  earth  and  timbers,  run- 
ning through  the  center  of  the  inclosure,  the  full 
length  of  the  fortification.  It  was  nine  hundred 
feet  long,  twenty  feet  wide  at  the  base,  and  twelve 
feet  high  ;  and  was  intended  to  serve  as  a  protection 
against  the  shells  of  the  British.  Anticipating  the 
fact  that  the  enemy  would  erect  powerful  batteries 
on  the  opposite  shore,  the  American  commander 
ordered  that  numerous  excavations  be  made  in  the 
south  side  of  the  grand  traverse,  to  which  his  men 
could  retreat  in  time  of  danger  from  exploding  mis- 
siles. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  301 

All  the  afternoon,  the  Indians  annoyed  the  soldiers 
of  the  garrison  with  a  desultory  rifle-fire ;  but  as 
they  fired  at  long  range,  their  shots  did  little  except 
to  cause  the  Americans  to  reply  in  like  manner. 
Late  in  the  evening,  two  or  three  boat-loads  of  sav- 
ages landed  upon  the  south  bank  of  the  river,  and, 
taking  up  positions  among  the  neighboring  trees, 
poured  a  more  effective  fire  upon  the  fort.  The 
soldiers  answered  briskly  ;  and  the  fusillade  was 
kept  up  until  nightfall. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Americans  had  trained  two 
eighteen-pounders  upon  their  enemies  across  the 
river,  causing  them  to  retire  to  cover ;  and  the 
British  had  succeeded  in  crossing  the  stream  and 
throwing  up  earthworks  for  the  protection  of  their 
fieldpieces,  a  short  distance  from  the  southeastern 
angle  of  the  fort.  The  place  was  completely  in- 
vested. Preparations  were  active,  on  the  one  side, 
to  storm  the  garrison  ;  on  the  other,  to  repel  the 
most  vigorous  assault. 

On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-ninth,  General 
Harrison  issued  a  general  order,  appealing  to  the 
patriotism  of  his  men. 

All  day  the  rifle-fire  was  continued  by  both  sides. 
Several  of  the  Americans  received  serious  wounds, 
and  a  number  of  the  enemy  were  killed. 

On  the  morning  of  the  thirtieth,  the  condition  of 
affairs  was  much  the  same.  Within  the  fort,  the 
grand  traverse  was  nearing  completion ;  and  the 
British  were  placing  their  heavy  siege  guns  in  posi- 
tion on  the  opposite  shore, 


302  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

The  Americans  were  well  supplied  with  food, 
but  they  suffered  much  from  want  of  water.  They 
were  digging  a  well  within  the  inclosure ;  but,  in 
the  meantime,  they  had  to  procure  their  supply  from 
the  river  at  night  —  a  hazardous  proceeding. 

On  the  following  day,  the  British  had  a  number  of 
their  cannon  in  position,  and  began  a  bombardment. 
The  Americans  returned  shot  for  shot ;  and  a  num- 
ber of  men  were  killed  upon  each  side. 

For  the  next  four  days  there  was  little  change  in 
the  situation.  Both  armies  were  on  the  alert  to 
take  an  advantage  of  the  other,  but  none  offered. 
General  Harrison  had  removed  all  his  tents  and 
paraphernalia  behind  the  traverses  ;  and  the  enemy 
had  nothing  to  shoot  at  but  the  bare  earthen  walls. 
The  soldiers  within  the  fort  and  the  savages  with- 
out kept  up  an  incessant  rifle-fire  ;  and  the  great 
guns  on  both  sides  thundered.  But  the  American 
commander's  supply  of  shot  and  shell  was  running 
short. 

Apparently,  the  enemy  had  abandoned  all  idea  of 
storming  the  fort  and  had  settled  down  to  take  it  by 
siege. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

ABOUT  sixty  miles  above  Fort  Meigs,  near  the 
junction  of  the  Auglaize  and  the  Maumee, 
lay   Fort   Winchester  —  formerly    Fort    De- 
fiance.    Within  its  walls,  General  Green  Clay  and 
his  Kentucky  militiamen  were  encamped  —  resting 
after  their  long  and  arduous  march,  and  knowing 
nothing  of  the  urgent  need  of  their  presence  at  Fort 
Meigs. 

In  the  early  morning  of  the  thirtieth  of  April, 
three  men  entered  the  gateway  of  the  fortification. 
They  were  Captain  Oliver  and  his  two  guides.  The 
former  immediately  made  inquiries  for  the  com- 
mander, and  was  directed  to  the  officers'  quarters. 
Farley  and  Bright  Wing  stopped  with  a  squad  of 
men  near  the  gate,  and  the  loquacious  Joe  entered 
into  conversation  with  them.  While  the  white  men 
were  talking,  the  Wyandot  leaned  upon  his  gun  and 
swept  his  eyes  about  the  place.  Suddenly  he  gave 
a  grunt  of  astonishment  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  comrade's  arm. 

"What  is  it,  Injin?"  Farley  inquired,  as  he 
whirled  about  upon  his  heel. 

' '  Dog  —  dog  Duke  ! ' '  muttered  Bright  Wing  in 
awe-struck  tones,  his  gaze  fixed  upon  a  distant  part 
of  the  inclosure. 

(303) 


304  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

1 '  Duke  ?  "  exclaimed  Joe.  ' '  What  do  you  mean  ? 
Where?" 

' '  Dog  Duke  him  over  there  —  now  gone, ' '  came 
the  soft  guttural  reply. 

"Say,  Injin,  you're  gittin'  loony,"  Farley  as- 
serted solemnly.  "  Ther'  ain't  no  dog  over  there 
—  n'r  hain't  been." 

"Me  see  dog,"  the  Wyandot  insisted.  "  Look 
heap  much  like  Duke." 

' '  Yes,  he  saw  a  dog  —  'r  a  bloodhoun' ,  to  be  more 
exact,"  affirmed  a  raw-boned  Kentuckian,  pointing 
toward  one  of  the  corner  blockhouses.  ' '  I  saw  it, 
too.  The  animal  was  jest  passin"  into  the  block- 
house. He's  an  unsociable  brute,  an'  belongs  to  one 
o'  the  guides." 

"Well,  it  ain't  the  dog  we  used  to  know,  though 
it  may  look  some  like  him,"  Joe  asserted  positively. 
"  'Cause  the  redskins  has  made  a  meal  o'  him,  long 
'fore  this.  Come  on,  Injin.  I^e's  see  if  we  can't 
find  somethin'  to  fill  up  on.  I'm  as  empty  as  a  frog 
pon'  durin'  a  dry  spell." 

The  two  comrades  left  the  group  at  the  gate  and 
went  to  another  part  of  the  inclosure.  At  one  of 
the  mess-fires  they  were  proffered  food,  which  they 
gladly  accepted.  After  eating  heartily,  they  leisurely 
sauntered  about  the  place,  Joe  whimsically  com- 
menting upon  all  they  observed. 

They  had  finished  a  tour  of  the  inclosure,  and 
were  irresolutely  pondering  what  to  do  next,  when 
Farley  suddenly  threw  up  his  head  and  stood  rigid 
as  a  ramrod,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  a  large  bloodhound 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  305 

that  came  from  behind  a  tent  and  trotted  toward 
them. 

"Duke  'r  his  ghost  ! "  he  whispered  with  trem- 
bling lips.  "  Injin,  do  you  see  him,  too  ?  " 

"  Ugh  !  "  Bright  Wing  managed  to  ejaculate. 

"  Then  it's  Duke  an'  not  his  ghost,"  Joe  said  in  a 
relieved  tone.  "  'Cause  I've  alluz  heerd  it  said 
that  two  folks  don't  see  a  ghost  at  the  same  time. 
Injin,  he's  comin'  right  toward  us  —  it  is  Duke,  by 
Katy  Melissy  !  Here,  Duke  —  here,  purp  !" 

The  bloodhound  was  trotting  toward  them,  his 
nose  close  to  the  ground.  Evidently  he  was  trail- 
ing them.  At  the  sound  of  Farley's  voice,  he  threw 
up  his  muzzle  and  set  his  eyes  upon  the  two  men. 
Then  with  a  short,  hoarse  yelp  of  joy,  he  sprang 
toward  them. 

"  Dang-it-all-to-dingnation  !  "  shouted  Joe.  ' '  It's 
ol'  Duke  —  an'  he  knows  us  !  Injin,  he  had  smelt 
out  our  tracks  an'  was  trailin'  us.  I  know  you,  ol' 
feller — of  course,  I  do  !  An'  I'm  as  glad  to  see  you, 
as  you  are  to  see  me.  But  git  down,  purp  ;  you'll 
spile  my  nice  clo'es,  with  y'r  dirty  paws  —  you  will, 
by  cracky  ! " 

Farley's  voice  was  tremulous,  and  the  tears  were 
running  down  his  furrowed  cheeks.  He  was  laugh- 
ing and  weeping  at  the  same  time. 

The  hound  crouched  at  the  feet  of  his  old  com- 
panions and  whined  ;  he  fawned  upon  them  ;  he 
circled  about  them,  barking  madly. 

"  Duke  him  heap  sight  glad  see  me,  you  —  all  of 
us,"  Bright  Wing  muttered  sagely.  "  Me,  you,  all 

20 


306  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

of  us  very  much  glad  see  dog  Duke.  Him  no  dead 
— him  here.  Maybe  master  no  dead  —  him  here." 

"Shut  up,  Injin  —  shut  up!"  Farley  cried 
sternly.  "  Don't  go  to  raisin'  no  false  hopes  like 
that,  in  a  feller's  gizzard.  Ross  Douglas  is  dead  — 
me  an'  you  saw  him  dyin'.  The  redskins  —  led  by 
that  dang  Bradford  —  found  him  an'  the  dog  to- 
gether. No  doubt  they  scalped  an'  stripped  the 
master  an'  drug  away  the  dog.  But  somebody  got 
the  houn'  away  from  the  thievin' ,  murderin'  red 
devils  —  an'  here  he  is.  I  can  read  it  all  like 
readin'  a  book.  A  heap  better,  in  fact,  fer  I  ain't 
much  on  book  learnin'.  But  ther's  one  thing  we 
want  to  do  —  find  this  scout  that  claims  to  own  the 
dog,  an'  make  him  tell  where  he  got  him." 

' '  Ugh  ! "    And  bright  Wing  nodded  assent. 

"Come  on,  then,"  Joe  began  excitedly,  but 
stopped  and  stared  stupidly  around. 

"  Wher's  the  purp?"  he  muttered. 

"  Duke  him  clean  gone,"  muttered  the  Wyandot. 
"Him  gone  that  way" —  pointing  with  his  rifle. 
"  Gone  hunt  new  master." 

"Well,  we'll  foller  him,"  Farley  said  decidedly. 
"An'  I'll  mighty  soon  tell  this  new  master  he 
hain't  got  no  right  to  the  houn',  an'  that  we're 
goin'  to  take  the  brute  with  us.  Eh,  Injin?  " 

' '  Ugh  !     All  right  —  me,  too. ' ' 

And  again  Bright  Wing  nodded  vigorously. 

"  An'  if  he  gives  me  any  of  his  sass,"  Farley 
went  on  savagely,  "  I'll  whip  the  scoundrel  within 
an  inch  of  his  worthless  life  —  I  will,  by  I^ucindy  ! 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  307 

Nobody  but  you  an'  me  has  any  right  to  Duke  now. 
An'  we'll  have  him  'r  know  the  reason  why.  Gol- 
fer-socks !  How  I  wish  Ross  Douglas  was  alive  an' 
here.  I'd  be  willin'  to  let  the  danged  Winnebagoes 
punch  my  nose  an'  pierce  my  ears  an'  pull  out  my 
hair  an'  whiskers,  to  the'r  heart's  content.  Yes, 
I'd  be  willin'  to  let  'em  destroy  the  last  remnants  o' 
my  beauty,  an  pull  out  my  lairipin'  tongue  by  the 
roots  —  I  would,  'r  my  name  ain't  Joseph  Peregoy 
Farley  !" 

The  two  comrades  were  walking  in  the  direction 
whence  the  bloodhound  had  gone.  Just  as  they 
reached  the  spot  where  the  Wyandot  had  seen  the 
dog  disappear  among  a  cluster  of  tents,  a  militia- 
man crossed  their  path. 

"Say,  friend,"  Farley  said  hurriedly,  "do  you 
happen  to  know  the  man  that  owns  the  big  blood- 
houn'  that's  runnin'  'round  the  camp?  " 

"Yes,"  the  soldier  answered  promptly. 

"  Well,  we're  huntin'  him.  What  kind  of  a  look- 
ing critter  is  he  ?  " 

"He's  one  o'  the  scouts  —  a  youngish-like  man, 
big  an'  stout ;  a  kind  of  a  surly  feller,  like  his  dog 
— don't  have  much  to  say  to  nobody.  But  he 
knows  his  business  —  an'  'tends  to  it.  Anything 
more  you'd  like  to  know?  " 

"I'd  like  to  know  where  to  find  him,"  Joe  re- 
plied coolly,  unheeding  the  sarcasm  of  the  other's 
tone  and  words. 

"  You'll  find  him  right  in  that  big  tent.  He's 
in  there  holdin'  a  conflab  with  the  Gener'l  an'  his 


308  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

staff.  You  act  as  if  you  had  important  business 
with  him." 

"  I  have,"  answered  Joe,  shutting  his  teeth  with 
a  snap.  "  What's  his  name?" 

"I  —  don't  —  know "  the  soldier  began 

slowly.  ' '  Yes,  I  do.  I  heard  our  Captain  call  him 
by  name  the  other  day.  I^e's  see.  It  was  some- 
thin'  likeRuggles  'r  Buggies.  No,  that  wasn't  it. 
I  guess  I  can't  think  of  it." 

Bright  Wing's  black  eyes  opened  very  wide,  and 
he  uttered  a  surprised  "Ugh!"  Farley's  cheek 
paled  under  its  coat  of  tan.  He  tried  to  speak  ; 
but  the  words  would  not  come.  At  last  he  managed 
to  stammer : 

"It  —  It  wasn't  —  Douglas,  was  it?" 

"That's  it  —  Douglas,"  exclaimed  the  militia- 
man, slapping  his  thigh.  "Douglas  —  yes,  that's 
the  name." 

"Ross  Douglas?" 

Joe's  face  was  ashen  as  he  put  the  question. 

"Now  you've  hit  it  !  "  the  man  shouted  triumph- 
antly. "That's  the  very  name  I  heard  the  Captain 
call  him  —  Ross  Douglas. ' ' 

Farley  and  Bright  Wing  stared  at  each  other,  in 
speechless  amazement.  Their  chests  were  heaving  ; 
their  lips,  apart.  The  militiaman  looked  from  one 
to  the  other  in  silent  wonder.  The  Wyandot  re- 
gained the  power  of  speech  and  grunted  : 

' '  Duke  him  not  dead — him  here.  Master  not  dead, 
too — him  here.  Ross  here  —  Fleet  Foot  —  ugh  !  " 

"  Injin,   you're    &   'tarnal    fool!"  Farley    cried 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  309 

angrily,  his  face  suddenly  flushing  —  then  paling. 
"  Fer  God's  sake,  don't  make  no  more  remarks  like 
that !  You  know  —  an'  I  know  —  that  Ross 
Douglas's  dead.  You're  a  fool !  " 

11  Joe  big  fool  !  "  Bright  Wing  returned  sullenly. 

"No,  I  ain't !  "  Farley  vociferated  wildly.  "  I 
can  see  the  length  of  my  nose  —  an'  you  can't. 
Don't  you  understand,  Injin.  W'y  the  dang  skunk 
that's  got  Ross  Douglas's  houn'  has  got  Ross  Doug- 
las's name  —  stol'd  both  of  'em,  of  course.  Jest 
wait  till  he  steps  out  o'  that  tent,  an'  I'll  give  him 
the  infernalest  lambastin'  a  man  ever  got  in  his  life 
—  I  will,  by  —  by " 

But  Joe,  in  his  excitement,  could  think  of  no  suit- 
able object  by  which  to  swear,  so  ended  with  a 
gasping  sputter. 

"You  seem  to  be  terribly  worked-up  'bout  some- 
thin',  stranger,"  the  soldier  remarked  coolly.  "An' 
you  threaten  to  trounce  the  guide  that  calls  hisself 
Ross  Douglas.  Well,  maybe  you're  like  a  singed 
cat  —  better' n  you  look  —  but  if  I  was  you  I'd  hire 
the  job  out.  I  seen  the  feller  you  talk  o'  whippin' 
lick  two  men  bigger' u  you  —  an'  not  half  try  — 
jest  'cause  they  spit  tobacker  juice  in  his  dog's  eye." 

"  It  don't  make  no  differ'nce  who  he's  licked,  n'r 
who  he  hain't,  '  Joe  answered  obstinately.  "A 
man  that's  mean  enough  to  palm  hisself  off  fer  Ross 
Douglas  —  who's  dead  an'  gone  —  has  got  to  take  a 
trouncin'  from  me.  Ross  Douglas  was  my  best 
friend  ;  an'  I  won't  have  his  name  stol'd  an'  dis- 
graced by  no  two-legged  critter  that  ever  tramped 


3io  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

on  new  ground  —  I  won't,  by  Queen  Elizabeth  !  It 
'pears  the  rascal  thinks  a  sight  o'  the  dog  —  bein' 
ready  to  fight  fer  him  ;  but  my  mind's  made  up  — 
the  cuss  has  got  to  be  licked." 

By  this  time  a  knot  of  soldiers  had  gathered  at 
the  spot.  Now  they  nudged  one  another  and  ex- 
changed facetious  winks  and  remarks.  They  were 
expecting  to  see  no  end  of  fun,  when  the  guide 
should  put  in  an  appearance. 

Farley  muttered  impatiently  : 

"  I  wish  the  critter'd  come  — right  while  I'm  in  a 
good  notion.  When  he  does,  one  o'  you  fellers 
p'int  him  out  to  me." 

A  number  of  the  assembled  militiamen  offered  to 
perform  the  service.  Suddenly  one  of  them  re- 
marked in  a  stage  whisper  : 

' '  The  council's  broke  up.  Here  comes  the  offi- 
cers now. ' ' 

"  P'int  him  out  to  me  !  "  Farley  hissed  between 
his  set  teeth. 

And  giving  his  gun  into  Bright  Wing's  hands,  he 
rolled  up  his  ragged  sleeves,  revealing  his  knotted 
and  sinewy  arms. 

The  officers  emerged  from  General  Clay's  tent. 
Captain  Oliver  was  among  them.  He  caught  sight 
of  Farley  and,  noting  the  woodman's  attitude  and 
expression,  walked  up  to  him,  saying  : 

f'You  appear  excited,  my  friend.  What's  the 
matter?" 

The  assembled  militiamen  grinned  broadly ;  and 
the  officers  paused  momentarily.  But  Joe  kept  his 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  311 

pale,  watery  eyes  fixed  upon  the  opening  in  the 
canvas  wall  and  did  not  reply  to  the  question.  The 
Captain  turned  to  Bright  Wing  with  : 

"What  ails  your  comrade?  " 

' '  Ugh  ! ' '  was  the  guttural  response.  ' '  Joe  him 
heap  mad  man.  Him  want  fight  much  bad." 

At  that  moment  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  young 
man  appeared  in  the  doorway.  At  his  side  trotted 
a  magnificent  bloodhound. 

' '  There  he  is  —  go  fer  him  !  "  a  mischievous 
militiaman  whispered  in  Farley's  ear. 

Joe  clapped  his  eyes  upon  the  figure  emerging 
from  the  tent,  and,  with  a  hoarse,  inarticulate  cry, 
staggered  back  a  few  steps  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

Officers  and  men  were  astounded,  and  could  only 
stand  and  stare.  Bright  Wing  gave  a  grunt  of  sur- 
prise and  satisfaction,  and  became  a  bronze  statue. 
The  hound  ran  forward  and  fawned  at  the  feet  of 
the  two  woodmen.  Then  the  young  man  in  the 
doorway  shouted  joyously  : 

"Joe  Farley  and  Bright  Wing  !  " 

Joe  dropped  his  hands  to  his  side,  and  for  a  brief 
moment  stood  with  mouth  agape.  Then  ,with  the 
cry — "It'sRoss  Douglas  hisself,  alive  an'a-livin'" — 
he  sprang  forward  and  thi;ew  his  long,  bony  arms 
around  his  friend's  neck. 

Bright  Wing  grinned  broadly  and  muttered  : 

"Dog  Duke  alive  and  here  ;  Fleet  Foot  alive  and 
here.  Joe  heap  sight  big  fool.  Ugh  ! ' ' 

Duke  capered  about  in  mad  delight,  baying  and 


312 

whining  by  turns.  Ross  and  Joe  held  each  other 
at  arm's  length  and  looked  long  and  earnestly  into 
each  other's  eyes.  Tears  were  raining  down  their 
cheeks,  and  their  lips  were  trembling. 

An  oppressive  silence  rested  upon  the  little  knot  of 
soldiers  who  were  watching  the  drama  enacting  be- 
fore them.  Of  a  sudden  a  militiaman  broke  the 
spell  by  shouting  : 

"Well,  if  that  don't  beat  all  the  ways  to  lick  a 
man,  I'm  a  numbskull  !  " 

With  shouts  of  laughter,  the  crowd  gradually 
dispersed.  Douglas  tore  himself  from  Farley's 
grasp  and,  flying  to  Bright  Wing,  warmly  embraced 
him.  In  return  the  Wyandot  gave  his  friend  a 
bear-like  hug.  Joe  stood  blubbering  and  wiping  his 
weak  eyes.  For  once  in  his  life  the  power  of  speech 
had  deserted  him.  Drawing  the  two  together, 
Douglas  said  with  deep  emotion  : 

' '  God  knows  how  glad  I  am  to  meet  you  again 
—  to  find  you  alive  and  well  !  I've  mourned  you 
as  dead." 

Farley  suddenly  found  his  voice  and  replied  : 

"  An'  maybe  we  ain't  glad  to  see  you,  Ross  !  We 
not  only  thought  you  was  dead  —  we  knowed  you 
was.  We  seen  you  dyin' — we  left  you  fer  dead. 
An'  dang-it-all-to-dingnation  !  Hang-it-up-an'-take- 
it-down-an'-cook-it  !  I  can't  hardly  believe  my 
senses.  Where' ve  you  been — how  did  you  come 
to  life?  Tell  me  all  about  it  right  now —  don't 
wait  a  minute.  By  King  Solerman's  six  hundred 
wives !  I  never  was  as  happy  in  my  born  days  ! ' ' 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  313 

"Come,  my  friends,"  Ross  said  softly,  sadly, 
"  let's  find  a  quiet  place,  and  sit  down  and  talk." 

He  led  them  to  a  distant  corner  of  the  fortifica- 
tion. There,  seated  upon  a  log,  they  entered  into 
explanations.  Douglas  told  the  two  of  his  miracu- 
lous escape  from  death  in  the  woods,  of  his  multi- 
farious adventures  and  experiences  among  the  In- 
dians at  the  village  upon  the  Mississinewa,  and  of 
the  bitter  disappointment  he  had  met  on  his  return 
to  Franklinton.  Last  of  all,  he  showed  them  the 
Prophet's  ring.  Farley  gingerly  examined  the 
talisman,  but  said  nothing.  Bright  Wing  would 
not  touch  the  uncanny  thing,  but  shudderingly  re- 
marked : 

' '  Tenskwatawa  big  medicine  man  —  bad  Shaw- 
nee.  Ring  very  much  strong  —  make  redrnen  sleep. 
Ugh  ! " 

And  he  drew  away  from  it. 

When  Douglas  had  finished,  Farley  began  his 
narrative.  In  conclusion  he  said  : 

"Yes,  Ross  Douglas,  me  an'  the  Injin's  been 
pris'ners  'mong  the  Winnebagoes,  ever  sence  we  left 
you  —  up  to  a  few  days  ago.  A  dozen  times  they 
was  goin'  to  kill  us,  but  somethin'  alluz  happened 
jest  in  the  nick  o'  time  to  save  us.  But  look  at  me  ! 
Where's  the  beauty  that  once  was  mine?  Gone  — 
sacrificed  by  the  dang  redskins  !  It's  a  sin  an'  a 
shame  —  it  is,  by  my  gran'mother's  shoestrings  ! 
An'  we'd  'ave  been  in  the  clutches  o'  the  red  devils 
yit,  but  the  most  of  'em  took  it  into  the'r  heads  to 
jine  Tecumseh  on  his  rampage  'g'inst  Fort  Meigs. 


3I4  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

That  give  us  a  chance  to  git  away.  But  holy  in- 
cense !  Talk  'bout  sufferin'  !  Hain't  I  'xperienced 
it?  Yit  you've  had  a  right  smart  taste  y'rself,  Ross. 
Yes,  things  has  come  out  jest  as  I  told  you  they 
would.  I  said  if  you  left  ol'  Sam  parkin's  gal  an' 
went  off  to  war,  she'd  marry  that  scalawag  of  a 
Hilliard.  An'  she's  done  it.  But — gol-fer-socks  ! 
That's  the  way  o'  the  whole  feminine  gender. 
Don't  I  know  'em — say?  Still  I  don't  fancy  you're 
so  much  disap'inted  over  the  turn  things  has  took, 
Ross.  Eh?" 

And  Farley  smiled  quizzically. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Joe?"  Douglas  asked 
quickly. 

"  Oh  !  you  know  well  enough  what  I  mean,"  the 
other  chuckled.  ' '  I  think  if  you  could  find  the 
little  red-haired  gal  that  set  you  free,  you  wouldn't 
hunt  overmuch  fer  Amy  L,arkin.  That's  my  'pinion, 
at  least." 

"You're  wrong,  my  old  friend,"  Douglas  has- 
tened to  say.  "  I  have  been  true  to  Amy  Larkin  ;  I 
trust  and  believe  she  has  been  true  to  me.  I  shall 
continue  my  search  for  her  —  and  never  rest  till  I 
find  her  ;  although  I  have  no  knowledge  of  her 
whereabouts.  But  I  must  leave  you  now,  to  assist 
in  the  preparations  for  departure." 

"  Go  ahead  !  —  don't  let  us  keep  you,"  Farley  as- 
sented. "  Ol'  Tippecanoe's  in  a  bad  box  down  there 
at  Fort  Meigs,  an'  the  sooner  we  all  git  there,  the 
better.  How  soon  do  you  think  the  army'll  be 
ready  to  move  ?  " 


"By  to-morrow  morning,  at  the  latest.  I'll  see 
you  again  this  evening.  Then  we  can  talk  to  our 
heart's  content. " 

Douglas  hurried  from  the  spot,  and  Farley  and 
Bright  Wing,  arising,  again  sauntered  aimlessly 
about  the  place,  followed  by  the  bloodhound. 

In  the  meantime,  preparations  for  the  hurried 
trip  down  the  river  were  rapidly  going  on.  Officers 
were  stalking  hither  and  thither,  giving  sharp  com- 
mands. Hundreds  of  men  were  busily  engaged  in 
loading  the  camp  equipage,  arms,  ammunition,  and 
provisions  upon  flat,  open  boats  that  lay  moored  at 
the  water's  edge. 

All  day  the  work  proceeded  without  intermis- 
sion. When  one  set  of  men  became  weary,  others 
took  their  places.  By  sunset  the  boats  were  loaded 
—  everything  on  board  but  the  men  themselves. 
That  night  they  slept  in  their  dismantled  camp, 
upon  the  bare  ground.  At  daylight  they  manned 
their  clumsy  vessels  and  commenced  their  venture- 
some voyage  down  the  Maumee. 

General  Clay  had  twelve  hundred  men  in  his  com- 
mand, and  his  fleet  consisted  of  eighteen  flats  of 
various  size.  For  four  days  the  primitive  flotilla 
moved  slowly  onward  between  walls  of  unbroken 
forest.  The  only  motive  power  was  the  sluggish 
current,  and  poles  and  sweeps  in  the  hands  of  the 
sturdy  Kentuckians. 

The  weather  was  warm  and  sunshiny.  Mating 
birds  twittered  and  chirped  in  the  budding  boughs 
of  the  trees  along  the  shore,  and  reviewed  their 


3i6  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

nesting-places  of  the  year  before.  The  clear  water 
lapped  musically  against  the  sides  of  the  moving 
craft ;  and  the  militiamen,  lolling  in  the  genial  sun- 
shine, smoked  their  pipes  and  chatted  cheerily,  un- 
aware of  the  black  fate  that  awaited  them. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LATE  on  the  night  of  the  fourth  of  May,  General 
Clay  and  his  relief  expedition  arrived  at  the 
head  of  the  rapids,  a  few  miles  above  Fort 
Meigs.  Captain  Oliver  and  a  squad  of  men  —  among 
whom  were  Farley  and  Bright  Wing  —  slipped  ashore 
and  started  afoot  for  the  fort.  Then  —  the  pilot  flatly 
refusing  to  proceed  farther  in  the  darkness  —  the 
commander  was  compelled  to  tie  up  his  boats  and 
wait  for  daylight. 

Captain  Oliver  and  his  men  succeeded  in  eluding 
the  vigilant  Indians,  and  entered  the  fortification  at 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  youthful  commis- 
sary immediately  repaired  to  General  Harrison's 
quarters,  and  apprised  him  of  the  near  approach  of 
the  re-eriforcements. 

An  hour  later,  after  a  hasty  consultation  with 
his  officers,  the  commander  sent  Captain  Hamilton 
and  a  subaltern  up  the  river,  to  meet  General  Clay. 
They  bore  orders  to  the  effect  that  Clay  was  to  land 
eight  hundred  men  upon  the  left  bank  of  the  stream, 
to  carry  the  British  batteries  and  spike  the  cannon  ; 
also,  that  the  residue  of  the  militia  were  to  disem- 
bark upon  the  south  shore  and  fight  their  way  to 
the  fort.  It  was  the  design  of  Harrison  to  make 
sorties  against  the  enemy  upon  the  same  side  of  the 

(3i7) 


318  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

river  —  whenever  the  Kentuckians  should  attack  the 
English  artillerists  upon  the  north  bank. 

In  the  gray  of  the  early  morning,  General  Clay 
cut  loose  his  boats  and  drifted  into  the  rapids. 
Scarcely  were  the  unwieldy  vessels  under  way,  when 
a  hail  came  from  the  southern  shore  ;  and  Captain 
Hamilton  and  his  companion  appeared  at  the  water's 
edge,  frantically  waving  their  arms.  They  were 
taken  aboard  the  craft  upon  which  was  the  com- 
mander of  the  expedition  ;  and  there  the  Captain 
delivered  his  message. 

Word  was  rapidly  passed  from  one  boat  to  another. 
Soon  all  was  animation  and  excitement.  The 
soldiers  —  who  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since  the 
evening  before,  and  who  still  lay  upon  the  decks, 
wrapped  in  their  mist-dampened  blankets  —  hastily 
threw  off  their  coverings,  sprang  to  their  feet,  and 
prepared  for  battle.  In  low  tones  they  conversed 
and  left  messages  with  one  another  for  the  dear 
ones  at  home.  But  there  was  no  panic  —  no  sign 
of  cowardice.  Fixed  purpose,  not  fear,  was  in  each 
rugged  face. 

Slowly  the  flats  drifted  into  the  middle  of  the  rap- 
ids. Soon  they  gained  in  impetus  and  floated  more 
and  more  rapidly.  The  water  chuckled  and  gur- 
gled at  the  bows,  and  danced  in  creamy  wakes  be- 
hind. Except  for  a  crisp  command,  now  and  then, 
all  was  silence  on  board  —  the  silence  of  determined 
men  ready  to  battle  to  the  death. 

Colonel  Dudley  was  to  lead  the  detachment 
against  the  English  batteries  upon  the  nprthern 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  319 

shore.  His  boat  was  in  advance  of  the  others.  Sud- 
denly a  number  of  savages  appeared  upon  the  left 
bank,  and,  with  hoots  and  yells,  discharged  their 
pieces  at  the  advancing  flotilla.  One  officer  was 
wounded  slightly.  Then  the  militiamen  returned 
the  fire  and  the  Indians  fled  to  shelter. 

Silence  again  reigned ;  and  the  flotilla  drifted  on- 
ward. 

In  a  few  minutes,  it  had  reached  the  foot  of  the 
rapids.  Colonel  Dudley,  detaching  twelve  boats 
and  eight  hundred  men,  steered  for  the  northern 
shore,  intending  to  land  about  a  mile  above  the 
British  batteries.  General  Clay,  with  the  six  remain- 
ing boats  and  about  four  hundred  men,  made  an  effort 
to  disembark  upon  the  southern  bank,  a  short  distance 
above  the  beleaguered  fort.  But  wind  and  current 
were  against  him.  Only  fifty  of  the  militiamen 
had  got  ashore,  when  the  vessels  were  swept 
from  their  moorings.  This  little  squad  of  Kentuck- 
ians  valiantly  fought  their  way  through  the  horde  of 
whooping  savages  that  hemmed  them  in,  and 
reached  the  fort  without  the  loss  of  a  man. 

The  remaining  three  hundred  and  fifty  —  under 
command  of  Colonel  Boswell  —  after  repeated  trials 
and  failures,  finally  effected  a  landing  upon  the  right 
bank,  at  a  point  near  the  western  end  of  the  fortifi- 
cation. General  Harrison  sent  a  sortie  to  their  aid  ; 
and  the  combined  force  repulsed  the  Indians  and  Ca- 
nadian militia,  and  marched  in  triumph  to  the  fort. 

A  short  time  afterward  the  commander  sent  an- 
other sortie  against  the  batteries  southeast  of  the 


32o  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

garrison.  A  stubborn  engagement  took  place.  The 
sturdy  Americans,  though  greatly  outnumbered, 
.drove  the  British  from  their  position,  spiked  several 
of  their  cannon,  and,  taking  a  number  of  prisoners, 
made  a  safe  retreat. 

Fighting  had  commenced  on  all  sides  of  the  be- 
leaguered fortification.  A  ring  of  flame  had  encircled 
the  place  ;  the  Stars  and  Stripes  had  received  a  fresh 
baptism  of  blood.  Now  the  smoke  of  battle  lifted  • 
and  the  brave  men  within  the  walls  turned  their 
attention  to  their  brethren  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  river.  General  Harrison,  glass  in  hand,  was 
anxiously  scanning  the  distant  shore.  Suddenly, 
he  dropped  his  hand  to  his  side  and  groaned  : 

"My  God!  They  are  lost— lost!  They've 
captured  the  batteries,  but  are  allowing  themselves 
to  be  lured  into  an  ambuscade.  Their  impetuosity 
will  be  their  undoing!  " 

Let  us  follow  Colonel  Dudley.  Without  difficulty, 
he  landed  upon  the  northern  bank  of  the  river,  a 
mile  above  the  British  batteries.  Gallantly  his 
men  charged  the  English  artillerists  and  drove  them 
from  their  guns.  Had  they  been  content  with 
spiking  the  cannon  and  returning  to  their  boats,  all 
would  have  been  well.  But  the  Indians  in  the  ad- 
jacent woods  were  pouring  a  galling  fire  into  the 
American  ranks. 

This  the  dare-devil  Kentuckians  could  not  stand. 
With  lusty  cheers,  they  charged  the  savages  and 
drove  them  pell-mell  into  the  depths  of  the  forest. 
Colonel  Dudley  feared  an  ambuscade,  and  sought  to 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  321 

restrain  the  ardor  of  his  troops,  but  in  vain.  The 
reckless  militiamen  continued  the  chase,  pushing 
farther  and  farther  into  the  tangled  woodland. 

Presently  the  wily  redrnen  rallied  and  essayed  to 
outflank  their  pursuers.  A  pitched  battle  took 
place.  The  rattle  of  firearms  became  a  deafening 
roar;  the  dense  smoke  obscured  friend  and  foe. 
Colonel  Dudley  ordered  a  charge  along  the  whole 
line.  It  availed  nothing  ;  the  Indians  could  not  be 
dislodged.  Next  came  the  order  to  retreat  to  the 
boats.  This  the  Kentuckians  were  ready  to  do. 
They  had  suffered  severely  —  they  realized  their 
mistake.  Foot  by  foot,  they  began  a  retreat  toward 
the  shore,  fighting  every  step  of  the  way. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  English  artillerymen  fled  to 
old  Fort  Miami,  a  short  distance  down  the  river  — 
where  General  Proctor  had  his  headquarters  —  and 
reported  the  loss  of  the  batteries.  The  British  com- 
mander, thinking  a  general  attack  upon  his  encamp- 
ment was  imminent,  immediately  recalled  a  large 
part  of  his  troops  from  the  south  side  of  the  stream, 
and  dispatched  them  to  the  scene  of  conflict. 
They  arrived  in  time  to  fall  upon  the  American 
rear,  completely  cut  off  their  retreat,  and  kill  or  cap- 
ture almost  the  entire  force.  Only  one  hundred  and 
fifty  of  the  gallant  but  rash  eight  hundred  regained 
their  boats  and  reached  Fort  Meigs. 

At  the  beginning  of  this  engagement,  Tecumseh, 
with  a  part  of  his  savage  band,  was  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  the  American  fortification.  On  receiving 
word  from  Proctor,  the  great  chief  swam  the  river 

21 


322  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

and,  mounting  a  horse,  galloped  to  the  scene  of 
conflict.  Well  he  knew  what  would  happen  were 
his  warriors  successful  in  the  fight.  But  he  arrived 
too  late.  The  battle  was  ended  ;  the  butchery  had 
begun. 

With  the  wailing  cry  —  ' '  What  will  become  of 
my  red  brothers  —  what  will  become  of  my  red 
brothers  !  "  he  wheeled  his  steed  and  dashed  along 
the  path  leading  from  the  battle-ground  to  the  Brit- 
ish encampment.  The  way  was  strewn  with  the 
mutilated  corpses  of  murdered  Americans.  At  the 
sight  he  clinched  his  white  teeth  —  and  spurred  on. 
Reaching  the  gateway  of  the  encampment,  he  gal- 
loped through  and  leaped  to  the  ground. 

The  butchery  was  still  going  on.  General  Proc- 
tor was  allowing  the  Indians  to  select  their  victims 
and  kill  them  as  they  saw  fit.  The  savages  were 
satiating  their  thirst  for  blood,  to  the  fullest  ex- 
tent. 

"Hold!"  Tecumseh  thundered,  drawing  his 
tomahawk  and  facing  his  half-mad  followers.  ' '  The 
brave  who  kills  another  defenseless  prisoner  dies  by 
my  hand  ! ' ' 

And  drawing  himself  defiantly  erect,  he  fixed  his 
piercing  gaze  upon  the  assembled  redmen. 

Cowed  by  the  commanding  presence  of  the  chief 
they  loved  and  feared,  the  Indians  relinquished 
their  victims  and  sullenly  returned  their  blood- 
stained weapons  to  their  belts.  But  one  stubborn 
Winnebago,  unheeding  the  command,  sprang  upon 
a  prisoner  standing  near  him.  The  next  instant 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  323 

Tecumseh's  hatchet  descended  —  and  the  red  fiend 
was  a  corpse. 

Grunts  of  approval  greeted  the  summary  act. 

"  Listen,  warriors  1  "  the  great  Shawnee  shouted. 
"I  said  no  more  helpless  captives  should  die. 
They  shall  not.  I  told  you  I  would  kill  any  who 
disobeyed  my  commands.  I  have  kept  my  word. 
Had  I  been  here  this  slaughter  never  would  have 
occurred.  For  shame  !  Are  you  warriors  or  wolves  ? 
Dare  to  disobey  me  —  and  die  !  " 

He  turned  sadly  away.  Seeing  General  Proctor 
standing  near,  he  boldly  strode  up  to  the  Englishman 
and  demanded  : 

"  Why  have  you  permitted  this  massacre  —  you, 
a  paleface?  " 

"Sir,"  replied  the  general  haughtily,  "  your  In- 
dians cannot  be  commanded  —  controlled.  They 
refused  to  obey  my  orders." 

"  Begone  !  "  the  great  chief  sneered.  "  You  are 
unfit  to  command  !  You  are  a  squaw  ;  go  and  put 
on  petticoats  !  " 

General  Proctor's  face  flushed  hotly,  but  he  did  not 
utter  the  sharp  retort  that  trembled  upon  his  tongue. 
And  it  was  well  for  him  that  he  did  not. 

Tecumseh  folded  his  arms  and,  stalking  up  and 
down  among  his  warriors,  kept  them  from  further 
acts  of  violence. 

The  garrison  of  Fort  Meigs,  realizing  the  fate 
that  threatened  their  brethren  upon  the  opposite 
side  of  the  river,  went  wild  with  excitement  and  anx- 
iety. The  commander  and  his  officers  repeatedly 


324  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

signalled  the  venturesome  militiamen  to  return 
to  their  boats  and  cross  over  to  the  fort.  Priv- 
ates mounted  the  parapets  and  traverses  —  unmind- 
ful of  Indian  bullets  —  and  shouted  themselves 
hoarse  in  futile  endeavor  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  impetuous  Kentuckians. 

As  has  been  shown,  all  this  was  vain.  Then  the 
soldiers  within  the  walls  demanded  that  they  be  led  to 
the  rescue  of  their  friends.  This  General  Harrison 
wisely  refused  to  permit.  But  he  asked  for  volun- 
teers to  cross  the  stream  and  recall  Dudley  and  his 
men  from  the  pursuit  of  the  savages.  lieutenant 
Campbell  offered  his  services.  But  when  he  reached 
the  British  batteries  on  the  other  side,  Colonel  Dud- 
ley and  his  men  had  disappeared  in  the  thick  woods. 
The  Lieutenant  immediately  recrossed  to  the  fort 
and  reported  the  fact  to  his  commander. 

General  Harrison  was  almost  beside  himself  with 
rage  and  grief.  Striding  up  and  down  in  front  of 
his  tent,  he  wrung  his  hands  and  groaned  : 

"  When  will  my  countrymen  learn  to  obey  com- 
mands !  Foolhardiness  is  as  bad  as  cowardice  — 
and  leads  to  as  grave  results.  Colonel  Dudley  and 
his  command  will  be  cut  to  pieces  ;  every  man  will 
be  killed  or  captured.  And  I  dare  not  send  troops 
to  his  aid.  My  hands  are  tied  !  " 

A  light  breeze,  sweeping  in  from  the  lake,  rippled 
the  surface  of  the  river  and  brought  to  the  ears  of 
those  within  the  garrison,  the  rattling  crash  of  fire- 
arms in  the  distance  and  the  cheers  and  whoops  of 
the  combatants.  The  smoke  of  the  conflict  rose 


THE'SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  325 

above  the  tree-tops  and  drifted  lazily  toward  the 
fort.  With  the  smell  of  burning  powder  in  their 
nostrils,  the  soldiers  were  hard  to  restrain.  They 
ran  from  one  part  of  the  inclosure  to  another, 
brandishing  their  arms,  and  grumbling  and  cursing 
angrily. 

"  Ding-it-all-to-dingnation  I  "Joe  Farley  bellowed, 
gripping  the  stock  of  his  rifle  and  panting  hard  with 
excitement.  "  Injin,  we'd  ort  to  be  over  there 
—  we  had,  by  Jerushy  !  Dang  the  hard-headed 
Kaintuckians,  anyhow  !  The  idee  of  'em  pokin' 
the'r  noses  into  a  hornets'  nest,  like  that !  They 
hain't  got  a  bit  o'  gumption.  But  sombody's  got 
to  go  to  the'r  help,  'r  ther'  won't  be  a  man  of  'em  left 
to  tell  the  story.  An'  what's  worryin'  me  —  Ross 
Douglas  is  among  'em.  That  youngster  don't  more 
'n  git  out  o'  one  diffikilty,  till  he's  plump  into  an- 
other one.  He'll  be  in  the  thick  o'  the  rumpus,  too, 
you  can  jest  bet.  An'  he'll  git  his  everlastin'  this 
time  —  'r  I  miss  my  guess.  Dodrot  the  luck,  any- 
how !  What  're we  goin'  to  do?  Jest  listen  to  that, 
now  !  They're  havin'  it  hot  an'  heavy  —  an'  no 
mistake.  We've  had  fightin'  all  'round  us  an'  all 
over  us  this  mornin'.  Me  an'  you's  been  in  two 
purty  little  brushes  ourselves.  But,  dang  it,  this  is 
worse  an'  more  of  it!  Say — I  can't  stand  it  no 
longer !  Ross  is  over  there  in  danger.  I'm  goin' 
to  him,  if  I  have  to  swim  the  river  to  git  there. 
What  do  you  say,  Injin?  " 

"Ugh!  Me  go,  too,"  the  Wyandot  replied 
calmly. 


326  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  Come  on,  then!"  Joe  cried  recklessly.  "  It  don't 
make  no  differ' nee  who  says  we  can't  go  —  Gener'l 
Harrison  'r  anybody  else—  we'll  go  any " 

He  ended  abruptly  and  fixed  his  gaze  upon  the  op- 
posite shore.  The  Wyandot  followed  his  example. 
A  body  of  men  had  emerged  from  the  woods,  and 
were  running  toward  the  boats  on  the  shore.  Oth- 
ers quickly  followed  them  —  and  still  others.  From 
the  fort,  it  could  be  seen  that  many  of  them  were  with- 
out hats  or  guns.  Pell-mell  they  rushed  to  the 
boats,  and  hastily  pushed  off. 

"A  rout  and  a  slaughter!"  General  Harrison 
moaned  as  he  entered  .his  tent. 

"  Here  comes  a  part  of  'em,  anyhow,"  Farley  mut- 
tered grimly  ;  ' '  but  it  'pears  to  be  a  mighty  small 
part  of  'em.  Gol-fer-socks  !  I  only  hope  Douglas 
is  amongst  'em.  If  he  ain't,  he's  knocked  under  fer 
sure  this  time.  Well,  it  seems  ther'  ain't  nothin' 
to  do  but  wait,  an'  watch,  an'  pray  —  it  does,  by 
ginger  !" 

And,  folding  his  arms,  the  lank  and  sorrowful- 
looking  woodman  sullenly  watched  the  fugitives 
frantically  poling  their  craft  across  the  river. 

Now  all  was  bustle  and  confusion  within  the  gar- 
rison. One  of  the  gates  was  thrown  open  ;  and 
soldiers  hurried  down  to  the  shore,  to  receive  and 
protect  the  terrorized  fugitives.  Soon  all  were  safe 
within  the  walls ;  but  still  the  hubbub  continued. 
Hundreds  crowded  around  the  survivors,  to  hear  the 
story  of  their  dreadful  experience.  General  Harri- 
son called  one  of  the  surviving  officers  into  his  tent, 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  327 

and  there  learned  the  particulars  of  the  ambuscade 
and  awful  slaughter. 

Colonel  Dudley  had  been  tomahawked  ;  many  of 
the  officers  were  dead.  And  of  the  gallant  eight 
hundred  less  than  one-fourth  had  escaped.  It  was 
not  war  ;  it  was  butchery  —  annihilation ! 

Joe  Farley  and  Bright  Wing  moved  among  the  sur- 
vivors, and  eagerly  scanned  each  face.  But  the 
man  they  sought  was  not  there.  Suddenly  the 
Wyandot  uttered  a  grunt  of  surprise  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"Dog  Duke  !" 

"  Where?  "  Farley  demanded  sharply. 

Ere  the  redman  could  make  reply,  the  hound  saw 
them  and  bounded  toward  them.  Dropping  upon 
the  ground  at  their  feet,  he  tragically  rolled  his 
blood-rimmed  eyes  and  whined  beseechingly.  His 
coat  was  soiled  and  roughened,  and  his  muzzle  was 
smeared  with  blood. 

"  He's  been  in  the  scrimmage,  as  sure' s  you  live!" 
was  Joe's  muttered  comment.  ' '  You  can  see  that, 
Injin.  Look  at  his  nose — all  stained  with  blood. 
He's  give  some  'tarnal  Shawnee  'r  other  red  devil 
his  final  sickness — he  has,  by  Caroline  !  But  if  he's 
here,  his  master  must  be  here.  I  never  knowed  'em 
to  be  far  apart,  if  they  could  help  it.  Le's  look 
ag'in." 

They  renewed  their  search,  the  dog  following 
them,  panting  and  whining.  But  they  did  not 
find  their  friend.  Joe  made  numerous  inquiries. 
All  the  answer  he  received  from  anyone  was  a  sad 


328  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

shake  of  the  head.  Discouraged  at  last,  he  mur- 
mured sadly  : 

"  'Tain't  no  use,  Injin.  Ross  Douglas  is  among 
the  missin'.  An'  in  this  case,  that  means  he's  dead  ; 
'cause  the  whole  thing's  been  a  reg'lar  butcher's  job. 
I  wish  the  dang  Winnebagoes  had  killed  me  when 
they  had  the  notion  —  I  do,  by  Kizzier  !  I'm  sorry 
I  ever  lived  to  see  this  day.  Jest  found  him  to  lose 
him  ag'in  —  an'  ferever.  We  made  an  awful  mis- 
take, Injin  ;  we  ort  to  'ave  stayed  with  him,  'stid 
o'  comin'  back  here  with  Cap'n  Oliver." 

Bright  Wing  nodded  sadly. 

"  Duke,  you're  a  pow'rful  smart  animal,  in  more 
ways  'n  one.  I  wish  to  glory  I  could  make  you 
understand  what  I  want  to  know.  Wher's  y'r 
master,  purp?  Wher's  Ross  Douglas  ?  " 

The  hound  lifted  his  nose  and  howled  dole- 
fully. 

"Jest  as  I  thought  —  jest  as  I  'xpected!"  Farley 
said  chokingly.  "  He's  dead.  That's  what  you 
mean,  ain't  it,  purp  ?  " 

Duke,  as  if  in  reply  to  the  question,  started 
toward  the  gate  he  had  entered,  casting  backward 
glances  over  his  shoulder  as  he  went. 

"  Le's  f oiler  him  an' see  what  he  wants,"  Joe 
whispered.  "The  poor  brute's  'bout  as  near  crazy 
as  we  are. ' ' 

On  reaching  the  gate,  the  dog  scratched  upon  it, 
telling  as  well  as  he  could  that  he  desired  them  to 
follow  him  without  the  walls. 

"Poor  critter!"  Farley  said  feelingly.       "You 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  329 

want  us  to  go  with  you  an'  hunt  y'r  master,  don't 
you,  purp?" 

Duke  bayed  loudly ,  and  scratched  the  earth  in  a 
frenzy  of  delight  at  being  understood. 

"Ugh!  Duke  him  want  find  master,"  Bright 
Wing  observed  sagely. 

Again  the  dumb  brute  manifested  his  joy. 

"  'Tain't  no  use,  purp!"  Joe  sobbed  softly,  stoop- 
ing and  patting  the  dog's  head.  "  If  y'r  master's 
over  in  them  woods,  he's  dead  —  'r  a  pris'ner, 
which  is  a  dang  sight  worse.  If  he's  dead,  we  can't 
do  him  no  good ;  an'  if  he's  a  pris'ner,  we  hain't 
no  chance  o'  rescuin'  him  this  time.  The  redskins 
is  buzzin'  'round  over  there  thicker'n  flies  'round  a 
dead  carcass.  'Tain't  no  use,  purp!  We'll  keep 
you  —  me  an'  the  Injin  will  —  an'  treat  you  well, 
fer  y'r  own  sake  an'  y'r  master's.  But  he's  gone  — 
an'  we  can't  bring  him  back.  Dodrot  war,  any- 
how !  It's  an  awful  —  awful  thing  !  " 

The  homely  face  underwent  a  spasm,  and  the  pale 
eyes  were  wet. 

Regaining  control  of  himself,  he  continued  mus- 
ingly : 

' '  Yit  I  may  be  wrong  ;  I  was  wrong  once  be- 
fore, when  I  saw  him  dyin'  with  my  own  eyes.  He 
was  jest  wounded  that  time  —  an'  that  may  be  the 
trouble  now.  He  may  be  layin'  over  there  in  the 
woods,  lollin'  his  parched  tongue  an'  moanin'  fer  a 
drink  o'  water.  Dogs  knows  aheap  ;  an'  this  purp 
is  tryin'  hard  to  tell  us  somethin' .  Dang-it-all-to- 
dingnation  !  Why  can1 1  a  dog  talk  ?  ' ' 


330  THE  SIGN  OF   THE   PROPHET 

Then  to  the  Wyandot: 

"Injin,  I  say  we'd  better  take  the  dog  an'  go 
over  there  an'  look  fer  Ross  Douglas. ' ' 

"Ugh!"  assented  Bright  Wing,  explosively. 

At  the  same  time  he  shouldered  his  gun,  thus  in- 
timating that  he  was  ready  to  start. 

"  Well,"  Farley  continued,  "  we'll  have  to  git  a 
permit  from  somebody,  I  s'pose ;  that's  'cordin'  to 
army  rules.  If  we  don't,  they  may  take  a  notion  to 
shoot  us  fer  deserters,  'r  fer  disobeyin'  orders  'r 
somethin'.  I  don't  know  much  'bout  such  things 
—  an'  I  don't  want  to.  Howsomever,  we'll  jest  go  to 
Ol'  Tippecanoe,  like  we  done  before,  an'  git  his  p'r- 
mission.  Come  on,  le's  not  waste  a  minute.  It's 
noon  now." 

A  few  quick  steps  brought  them  to  the  entrance 
of  the  commander's  tent.  The  place  was  swarming 
with  officers.  Around  the  door  was  a  noisy  throng 
of  excited  subalterns  and  privates.  Joe  and  Bright 
Wing  elbowed  their  way  through  the  mass  and 
gained  the  doorway,  Duke  closely  following  them. 

Just  within,  were  two  orderlies  on  guard.  With- 
out so  much  as  a  nod,  Farley  crowded  between  them. 

"Stop!  You  can't  come  in  here,"  one  of  the 
orderlies  cried  sternly,  seizing  the  woodman  by  the 
arm. 

"But  I  am  in,"  Farley  replied,  a  broad  grin 
puckering  his  cheeks. 

"  Go  out  instantly!"  blustered  the  orderly,  as  he 
whirled  the  intruder  around  and  shoved  him  toward 
the  door. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  331 

Farley's  ire  rose  rapidly  —  reached  fever  heat  in 
an  instant. 

"Take  y'r  hands  off  o'  me,  an'  git  out  o'  my 
road,  'r  I'll  break  ev'ry  bone  in  y'r  slim,  little 
body  !  "  he  growled  savagely. 

The  other  orderly  came  to  his  comrade's  assist- 
ance. The  two  threw  themselves  upon  the  angular 
giant  and  sought  to  eject  him  from  the  place.  Bright 
Wing's  hand  flew  to  the  heavy  hatchet  in  his  belt 
—  a  weapon  he  had  picked  up  since  his  arrival  at 
the  fort.  Duke  crouched  for  a  spring  and  growled 
sullenly.  But  Farley  needed  no  help.  His  heavy 
fist  shot  out ;  and  one  of  the  soldiers  dropped  to  the 
ground.  Quickly  turning  upon  the  other  and  catch- 
ing him  by  the  collar,  Joe  threw  him  half-way 
across  the  tent.  Then  the  enraged  woodman  bel- 
lowed hoarsely  : 

"Take  that,  you  cowardly,  little  whippersnap- 
pers  !  Jump  onto  a  feller,  two  at  a  time,  will  you  ? 
•I'll  learn  you  better  manners  — I  will,  by  the  Queen 
o'  Sheby  !  Come  on  ag'in,  if  you  want  to  —  I  can 
trounce  a  dozen  like  you!  I  come  in  here  to  see  Ol' 
Tippecanoe ;  an'  I'm  a-goin'  to  see  him,  'r  die  a- try- 
in'.  If  you  two  whinin'  babies  gits  in  my  road  ag'in, 
I'll  pin  back  y'r  ears  an'  swaller  you  —  I  will,  by 
Mary  Magdalene  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  there?"  rang  out  in  clear, 
even  tones. 

And  General  Harrison,  rising  to  his  feet,  looked 
toward  the  scene  of  disturbance. 

' '  These  men  have    forced  their  way  in  here,  and 


332  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

we  are  trying  to  put  them  out,"  explained  one  of 
the  orderlies,  who  stood  brushing  his  soiled  uni- 
form and  feelingly  rubbing  his  bruised  face. 

"Who  are  they?"  the  commander  impatiently 
inquired. 

'•'  I  don't  know,  General " 

Farley  strode  forward  and  interrupted  : 

"  Gener'l  Harrison,  you  ortto  know  us,  whether 
you  do  'r  not.  Me  an'  the  Injin  was  with  you  at 
Tippecanoe — the  dog  was,  too,  fer  that  matter." 

"  Ah  !  You  were  with  me  at  Tippecanoe  ?  " 

"Yes,  Gener'l,  we  was  there  —  an'  right  in  the 
hottest  o'  the  scrimmage." 

"  Your  names?  " 

' '  Joseph  Peregoy  Farley  an'  Bright  Wing,  the 
Wyandot.  I  whacked  bulls  fer  you,  clean  from 
Fort  Harrison  to  the  Prophet's  Town  ;  an'  the  Injin 
an'  the  houn'  scouted  with  Ross  Douglas.  Ding-it- 
all-to " 

Joe's  voice  was  drowned  by  an  explosive  roar  of 
laughter  from  the  assembled  officers.  Even  the 
dignified  commander  smiled ;  and  the  two  orderlies 
grinned  in  a  sickly  manner.  When  quiet  was  re- 
stored, Harrison  said  quickly  : 

' '  Your  names  sound  familiar.  Who  was  it  with 
whom  your  red  comrade  scouted  ?  " 

"Ross  Douglas." 

"Ah  !  "-  -  With  animation. —  "  I  remember  you 
well  now.  You  are  the  two  men  who  went  to  his 
rescue,  after  he  was  captured  by  the  Prophet's 
band." 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  333 

"We  are,  Gener'l ;  an'  we've  come  to  ask  y'r  p'r- 
mission  to  go  to  his  help  ag'in." 

"  Explain." 

Farley  did  so — in  his  loquacious,  rambling  way. 
Deep  silence  reigned  in  the  tent,  as  the  simple- 
minded  fellow  told  his  moving  tale  and  begged  to 
be  allowed  to  go  to  the  aid  of  his  friend.  When  he 
had  finished,  tears  were  in  many  eyes. 

"  To  whose  command  do  you  belong?  "  Harrison 
inquired  in  tremulous  tones. 

"  We  don't  belong  to  nobody's  command,"  was 
the  prompt  reply.  "  We  jest  got  away  from  the 
dang  Winnebagoes  —  after  bein'  pris'ners  a  year  an' 
a  half  —  an'  come  here.  We  hain't  'nlisted  yit.  All 
the  duty  we've  done  was  to  go  with  Cap'n  Oliver,  to 
meet  Gener'l  Clay." 

' '  You  were  Captain  Oliver's  guides  ?  " 

"We  were,  Gener'l." 

"You're  brave  and  true  men,"  the  commander 
said  kindly.  "You've  not  hesitated  to  risk  your 
libertj*  and  your  lives  in  the  service  of  your  coun- 
try—  not  once,  but  many  times.  I  appreciate  your 
patriotism  and  your  devotion  to  your  friend.  I'm 
very  sorry  to  know  he  was  in  that — that  dreadful 
fight  across  the  river.  But  I  can't  grant  you  per- 
mission to  throw  away  your  lives  to  no  purpose.  If 
your  friend  be  dead,  you  can  be  of  no  service  to 
him  ;  if  he  be  wounded  or  a  prisoner,  he  has  been 
removed  to  the  British  encampment,  ere  this.  You 
can't  aid  him.  If  he  be  alive,  he  will  be  exchanged 
in  due  time.  Now  I  must  bid  you  good-morning 


334  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

—  I'm  very  busy.  But,  believe  me,  I  sympathize 
with  you  more  than  you  know.  I  remember  your 
friend,  and  grieve  to  know  that  such  misfortune 
has  befallen  him.  Good  morning." 

Farley  and  Bright  Wing  shook  hands  with  the 
commander  and  quietly  withdrew,  followed  by  the 
pitying  glances  of  the  officers. 

On  reaching  the  open  air,  Joe  heaved  a  deep  sigh 
and  remarked  : 

"Well,  that  settles  it,  Injin  ;  we  can't  go.  An' 
I  wouldn't  wonder  Ol'  Tippecanoe's  right,  after  all. 
We'd  only  lose  our  scalps  by  goin' — an'  do  no  good. 
The  Gener'l  used  us  mighty  kind,  anyhow." 

"Ugh!"  rumbled  up  from  the  Wyandot's  deep 
chest.  ' '  Tippecanoe  him  all  much  good  heart  — 
no  bad." 

"Well,"  Farley  sighed  in  return,  "  as  I  said  be- 
fore, all  we  can  do  is  to  wait  an'  watch,  an'  hope  an' 
pray.  L,e's  go  an'  hunt  somethin'  to  eat.  I'm 
pow'rful  hungry  ;  an'  the  purp  must  be  'bout  starved. 
This  life's  a  kind  o'  tangled  snarl  anyhow  —  it  is,  'r 
my  name  ain't  Joe  Farley  !  " 

On  all  sides  the  battle  was  ended.  The  heavy 
guns  had  ceased  to  belch  flame ;  the  querulous 
voices  of  the  rifles  were  silent.  The  powder  smoke 
had  lifted  and  disappeared ;  the  groans  of  the 
wounded  and  dying  no  longer  fell  upon  the  ear. 
The  sun  shone  brightly  ;  and  the  birds  in  the  adja- 
cent forest  sang  gleefully. 

Shortly  after  noon,  a  small  boat  was  seen  crossing 
the  river.  In  the  stern  sat  a  British  officer  bearing 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  335 

a  flag  of  truce.  One  of  General  Harrison's  aides  met 
him  at  the  landing,  and  inquired  : 

"  Who  are  you,  and  why  do  you  come?  " 

"I'm  Major  Chambers  of  his  Majesty's  service," 
was  the  reply  ;  "  and  I'm  sent  by  General  Proctor, 
to  demand  the  surrender  of  this  fort." 

"You'll  have  your  labor  for  your  pains,"  an- 
swered the  aide.  "  However,  I'll  blindfold  you 
and  conduct  you  to  General  Harrison. ' ' 

Ushered  into  the  American  commander's  presence, 
Major  Chambers  said : 

' '  General  Proctor  has  directed  me  to  demand  the 
surrender  of  this  post.  He  wishes  to  spare  the  ef- 
fusion of  blood. ' ' 

General  Harrison  smiled  blandly,  as  he  replied  : 

' '  The  demand  under  present  circumstances  is 
most  extraordinary.  As  General  Proctor  didn't 
send  me  a  summons  to  surrender,  on  his  first  ar- 
rival, I  had  supposed  that  he  believed  me  determined 
to  do  my  duty.  His  present  message  indicates  an 
opinion  of  me  that  I'm  at  a  loss  to  account  for." 

Major  Chambers'  face  flushed  as  he  hastened  to 
say  : 

"  General  Proctor  could  never  think  of  saying 
anything  to  wound  your  feelings,  sir.  The  char- 
acter of  General  Harrison,  as  an  officer,  is  well 
known.  General  Proctor's  force  is  very  respect- 
able, and  there  is  with  him  a  larger  body  of  Indians 
than  has  ever  before  been  embodied." 

General  Harrison  drew  himself  stiffly  erect.  His 
keen  eyes  flashed  as  he  answered  : 


336  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  I  believe  I  have  a  very  correct  idea  of  General 
Proctor's  force  ;  and  it  is  not  such  as  to  create  the 
least  apprehension  for  the  result  of  the  contest, 
whatever  shape  he  may  be  pleased  hereafter  to  give 
to  it.  Assure  the  General,  however,  that  he  will 
never  have  this  post  surrendered  to  him,  upon  any 
terms.  Should  it  fall  into  his  hands,  it  will  be  in  a 
manner  calculated  to  do  him  more  honor,  and  give 
him  larger  claims  upon  the  gratitude  of  his  govern- 
ment, than  any  capitulation  could  possibly  do." 

Major  Chambers  did  not  push  the  matter  further, 
but,  after  an  arrangement  for  an  exchange  of  prison- 
ers had  been  made,  bowed  and  withdrew. 

The  afternoon  passed  quietly  ;  hostilities  were 
not  renewed.  No  further  communication  was  held 
between  the  opposing  forces ;  and  at  nightfall 
Bright  Wing  and  Farley  had  heard  nothing  of  their 
absent  friend. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

WHBN  Colonel  Dudley  disembarked  his  men 
upon  the  northern  bank  of  the  Maumee, 
Ross  Douglas  was  among  them.  It  was  he 
who  led  the  way  toward  the  British  batteries  —  his 
faithful  four-footed  friend  at  his  side. 

When  the  charge  was  ordered,  he  was  among  the 
officers  who  headed  the  attacking  columns,  and  his 
gun  was  among  the  first  discharged.  With  a  cheer, 
he  clubbed  his  empty  rifle  and  helped  to  put  the 
English  gunners  to  rout.  It  was  an  easy  victory  ; 
the  startled  and  terrorized  artillerymen  did  not  wait 
to  fire  a  gun,  but  precipitately  retreated  toward 
their  encampment  down  the  river. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  the  British  in  full  flight  and 
the  Americans  possessed  of  the  batteries,  Ross 
called  Duke  to  him  and  seated  himself  upon  a  gun- 
carriage.  He  felt  that  the  fight  was  over  ;  and  he 
was  ready  —  as  soon  as  the  cannon  should  be  spiked 
—  to  return  to  the  boats  and  cross  over  to  the 
fort. 

At  that  moment,  victory  was  with  Colonel  Dudley 
and  his  men.  But  —  as  has  been  explained  —  the 
savages  concealed  in  the  woods  commenced  to  pour 
a  withering  fusillade  into  the  ranks  of  the  militia 
occupying  the  open  ground  surrounding  the  batter- 
22  (337) 


338  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

ies.  Dudley  should  have  effected  the  purpose  for 
which  he  had  come  and  immediately  re-embarked  ; 
but  he  hesitated  —  and  was  lost.  The  impulsive 
Kentuckians  grew  restless  under  the  hot  fire,  and, 
without  waiting  for  orders,  began  an  impetuous  and 
disorderly  advance  upon  their  hidden  foes.  Their 
officers  sought  to  restrain  them,  but  in  vain.  They 
had  tasted  victory,  and  were  intoxicated.  With 
cheers  of  exultation  and  yells  of  defiance,  they 
broke  the  leash  of  discipline  and  madly  charged  the 
enemy. 

Knowing  well  what  the  inevitable  outcome  of  the 
rash  attack  would  be,  Douglas  leaped  to  his  feet, 
hastened  to  Colonel  Dudley's  side,  and  shouted  ve- 
hemently : 

"For  heaven's  sake,  call  a  retreat,  Colonel! 
Your  men  will  fall  into  an  ambush  and  be  cut  to 
pieces.  It's  an  old  trick — as  old  as  Indian  war- 
fare. Act  —  act  at  once  !  " 

Ross's  face  was  flushed  ;  his  eyes  were  shining. 
The  commanding  officer  smiled  pityingly,  as  he  said: 

' '  You're  exciting  yourself  over  nothing,  young 
man.  It  is  a  mere  skirmish  with  the  savages ; 
there  will  be  no  general  engagement.  As  soon  as 
my  men  have  driven  the  enemy  into  the  depths 
of  the  forest,  they  will  return  of  their  own  accord. ' ' 

Douglas  turned  pale  with  suppressed  fury. 

"  I  tell  you  it's  an  ambush,  Colonel  Dudley!  "  he 
exclaimed.  "  Recall  your  men,  if  you  would  not 
see  them  annihilated !  ' ' 

Dudley  returned  coldly : 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET       .    339 

' '  My  youthful  guide,  I  don't  need  your  advice. 
/  am  in  command ' ' 

He  broke  off  suddenly  and,  fixing  his  eyes  upon 
the  edge  of  the  forest  where  the  militiamen  were 
fast  disappearing,  he  muttered  : 

"They  are  making  a  concerted  charge.  I  fear 
myself  they  may  venture  too  far  and  be  drawn  into 
a  trap.  I'll  order  a  retreat  immediately." 

He  hurried  away  to  put  his  tardy  resolve  into 
execution.  But  it  was  too  late  ;  the  mischief  was 
done.  Elated  with  the  success  of  their  first  en- 
counter, the  Kentuckians  refused  to  obey  the  com- 
mand to  retire  to  the  boats.  Colonel  Dudley 
stormed  and  fumed  ;  inferior  officers  threatened  and 
swore.  It  availed  nothing.  The  regiment  had  lost 
all  discipline  —  had  become  an  enraged  mob.  L,ike 
a  mad  steed,  it  took  the  bit  and  dashed  forward  to 
destruction. 

Douglas  hurried  from  one  place  to  another,  warn- 
ing the  men  of  the  ambuscade  into  which  they  were 
pushing,  and  beseeching  them  to  return  to  the  boats 
while  there  was  yet  time.  His  words  fell  upon 
deaf  ears.  Seeing  at  last  that  his  countrymen  had 
lost  all  reason  —  were  drunk  on  the  wine  of  success 
—  he  forced  his  way  to  the  front,  and  fought  like  a 
demon.  Duke  kept  at  his  master's  side.  Man  and 
dog  were  in  the  thick  of  the  fray.  The  hound's 
hoarse  growl  of  rage  sent  terror  to  the  heart  of 
more  than  one  dusky  brave,  and  his  gleaming  fangs 
cut  short  more  than  one  exultant  war-whoop.  Ross 
loaded  and  fired  his  gun  with  a  speed  and  accuracy 


340  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

born  of  years  of  practice.  The  smoke  of  battle 
was  in  his  nostrils  ;  the  lust  of  slaughter  was  in 
his  brain.  The  savages  slowly  retreated  until  they 
reached  a  place  suited  to  their  tactics.  There  they 
promptly  rallied  and  sought  to  outflank  the  Ameri- 
cans. The  battle  raged  furiously  on  all  sides. 
British  re-enforcements  arrived  upon  the  scene.  Re- 
treat became  an  impossibility. 

Douglas  became  separated  from  his  comrades  — 
but  he  fought  on.  His  ammunition  exhausted,  he 
clubbed  his  rifle  and  dealt  blow  after  blow  at  the 
heads  of  his  red  assailants.  He  felt  his  strength 
gradually  failing,  but  he  set  his  teeth  and  grimly 
resolved  to  die  fighting.  His  faithful  dog  was  no 
longer  at  his  side  ;  he  was  alone  with  his  enemies. 
And  death  was  leering  at  him  —  face  to  face. 

"Fleet  Foot!  Fleet  Foot!  Kill  him!  Kill 
him!" 

The  words  reached  the  young  man's  ears.  In- 
stantly he  understood  why  he  had  been  singled 
out  from  his  companions,  why  so  many  red 
fiends  beset  him.  Among  his  foes,  were  the  war- 
riors who  had  tried  to  take  his  life  at  the  Miami 
village  upon  the  Mississinewa.  The  knowledge 
maddened  him  —  renewed  his  energies.  He  re- 
solved they  should  not  have  the  pleasure  of  taking 
him  captive  —  of  torturing  him.  Dropping  his  gun, 
he  drew  his  knife,  meaning  to  resist  as  long  as 
breath  and  blood  were  his.  But  at  that  moment 
the  tide  of  battle  surged  toward  him  —  around  him  ; 
and  his  assailants  were  swept  aside. 


341 

He  drew  a  deep  breath  and  looked  around.  The 
American  columns  were  broken  —  scattered.  The 
attacking  army  had  become  a  fleeing  rabble,  in 
which  each  man  was  seeking  his  own  safety. 
Realizing  that  the  battle  was  lost,  that  there  was  no 
hope  of  rallying  the  flying  militiamen,  Ross  groaned 
aloud  : 

' '  My  God  !     What  a  defeat  —  what  a  disgrace  ! ' ' 

Then  he  picked  up  his  rifle  and  set  out  after  the 
fugitives.  Scarcely  had  he  taken  ten  steps,  how- 
ever, when  clamorous  yells  assailed  his  ears  and  he 
saw  that  his  escape  toward  the  river  was  cut  off  by 
his  old  enemies.  Quickly  he  whirled  about  and  ran 
at  full  speed  in  the  opposite  direction,  not  heeding 
nor  caring  whither  his  course  would  take  him. 
For  a  time  he  heard  the  heavy  breathing  and 
panted  ejaculations  of  his  pursuers.  But  gradually 
those  sounds  died  out.  Then  all  was  silence  —  he 
was  alone  in  the  deep  woods. 

He  dropped  upon  the  ground  and  gasped  for 
breath.  His  brain  swam  ;  his  throat  was  on  fire. 
Red  and  green  lights  flashed  before  his  eyes;  and 
rills  of  sweat  trickled  down  his  powder-stained  face. 
He  had  received  a  knife  thrust  in  the  right  arm 
and  a  tomahawk  cut  in  the  left  shoulder.  These 
superficial  wounds  had  bled  freely  and  saturated 
his  hunting-shirt.  He  was  completely  exhausted. 

For  several  minutes,  he  lay  breathing  hard  and 
listening  for  the  footfalls  of  his  pursuers.  But  the 
stillness  was  broken  only  by  his  own  labored  respi- 
ration and  the  querulous  twitter  of  birds  among  the 


342  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

boughs  above  him.  He  began  to  recover  his  wind. 
His  limbs  ceased  to  tremble  ;  he  felt  his  strength 
returning.  But  his  thirst  was  tormenting ;  he 
must  have  water.  With  some  difficulty  he  got 
upon  his  feet  and  looked  about  him.  The  dense, 
leafless  wood  stretched  away  on  all  sides  as  far  as 
he  could  see.  Near  him  was  a  pool  of  dark-colored 
water  —  stained  with  the  ooze  of  the  forest.  It 
was  warm  and  mawkish  ;  but  he  drank  of  it  with 
avidity. 

"  There  !  "  he  panted,  "  I  feel  much  better.  Now 
I  must  find  a  hiding-place  ;  the  woods  is  swarm- 
ing with  my  foes.  When  night  comes  I'll  make 
my  way  to  the  shore,  swim  the  river,  and  attempt 
to  gain  the  fort.  What  an  awful  day's  work  this 
has  been  —  hundreds  dead,  hundreds  captured  !  " 

Then,  after  a  pause  : 

"  But  I  must  get  my  bearings.  I<et  me  see. 
Where's  the  sun?  I'm  far  back  of  the  battle- 
ground, and  farther  down  the  river.  Fort  Miami 
lies  between  me  and  Fort  Meigs.  I'll  bear  to 
the  right  of  it,  and  strike  the  stream  at  a  point  be- 
tween the  scene  of  to-day's  battle  and  the  British 
encampment.  But  I  must  hide  until  nightfall  —  it 
wouldn't  be  safe  to  make  the  attempt  sooner. 
Well,  I'm  more  fortunate  than  most  of  my  rash 
comrades ;  I'm  yet  alive  and  free.  My  wounds 
pain  me  some,  but  they're  not  of  a  serious  char- 
acter. If  I  had  something  to  eat,  I  should  be  all 
right.  I  wonder  what  has  become  of  Duke. 
Faithful  old  fellow  !  No  doubt  he  has  been  killed  ; 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  343 

else  he  would  be  at  my  side.  No, " — Reflect- 
ively,— "  he  may  have  escaped  and  made  his  way  to 
Fort  Meigs,  with  the  few  survivors.  With  the  smell 
of  blood  in  his  nostrils,  he  wouldn't  be  able  to  fol- 
low my  trail.  Well,  I'll  hide  myself  and  rest  until 
dark.  Then  for  Fort  Meigs  and  safety!  " 

Concealing  his  trail  as  well  as  he  could,  he 
pushed  farther  into  the  woods,  leaving  the  river  be- 
hind him.  At  last  he  lay  down  by  a  log  and,  hug- 
ging his  empty  rifle  to  his  breast,  fell  asleep. 
When  he  awoke,  the  sun  was  setting  and  the  forest 
was  aflame  with  rosy  light.  Arising,  he  stretched 
his  stiffened  limbs  and  carefully  examined  his 
wounds. 

"Mere  scratches,"  he  muttered.  "But  I'm 
weak  from  fasting  and  loss  of  blood.  Then,  too, 
I  have  no  arms  but  an  empty  gun  and  a  knife.  I 
shouldn't  like  to  encounter  a  score  of  savages  just 
now." — And  he  smiled  grimly. —  "But  it'll  soon 
be  dark.  I'll  move  toward  the  river." 

Shouldering  his  rifle,  he  set  out,  walking  briskly 
in  spite  of  pain  and  weakness.  The  sun  went 
down  ;  the  rosy  light  began  to  pale  and  fade.  At 
last  he  stopped  suddenly. 

"  I'm  nearing  the  river.  Perhaps  I'd  better 
wait  until  it's  darker.  But  then  I'm  afraid  I 
should  run  into  danger  without  seeing  it.  What's 
best?  Ah!" 

He  uttered  the  exclamation  with  vexation  and 
disappointment,  and  sprang  behind  a  tree.  In  the 
dusky  twilight  he  perceived  a  cloaked  figure  mov- 


344  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

ing  toward  him.  Loosening  the  knife  in  his  belt, 
he  softly  placed  his  gun  against  the  tree  trunk  and 
peeped  from  his  place  of  concealment.  The  obscure 
figure  was  coming  on,  slowly,  hesitatingly.  Its 
cautious  footfalls  fell  upon  his  ear.  He  drew 
his  knife  and  panted  with  suppressed  excitement. 
Nearer  and  nearer  to  his  hiding-place,  the  figure 
drew,  its  head  bent  low  over  a  bundle  it  carried  in 
its  arms. 

Douglas  breathed  hard  and,  gripping  his  knife 
firmly,  held  it  ready  for  instant  use.  Then  he  made 
the  discovery  that  the  approaching  personage  was 
a  woman  —  an  Indian  squaw,  probably.  For  a 
moment  he  debated  what  he  should  do.  Could  he 
kill  a  defenseless  female,  even  to  assure  his  own 
safety  ?  His  soul  sickened  at  the  thought.  Quickly 
he  determined  on  a  more  humane  course  of  action. 
He  would  confront  the  squaw.  Should  she  seek  to 
give  an  alarm,  he  would  seize  and  overpower  her. 
Then  he  would  choke  her  into  silence  and  carry  her 
from  the  spot. 

Acting  upon  this  resolve,  he  boldly  stepped  from 
his  place  of  concealment  and  coughed  to  attract  the 
woman's  attention.  Flinging  up  her  head,  she  ut- 
tered a  half-suppressed  scream  and  turned  to  flee. 
Ross  sprang  forward  and  threw  his  arms  around 
her.  She  struggled  to  escape,  but  did  not  cry  out. 

The  cloak  fell  from  her  shoulders.  In  the  dim 
twilight  he  saw  that  she  was  a  white  woman,  and 
that  she  held  a  small  child  in  her  arms.  Instantly 
releasing  her,  he  stammered: 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  345 

"My  good  woman,  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons. 
In  the  gloom  I  mistook  you  for  a  squaw,  and,  fear- 
ing that  you  might  raise  an  alarm " 

He  broke  off  and  recoiled  a  step,  a  sharp  excla- 
mation upon  his  lips.  The  woman  had  lifted  a  wan 
face  to  his  ;  and  by  the  tremulous  light  of  the  dying 
twilight,  he  had  recognized  her. 

"Amy  !  "  he  gasped. 

"  Ross  !  "  she  whispered  hoarsely,  leaning  against 
a  tree  for  support  and  closely  hugging  the  child  to 
her  breast. 

A  short  time  they  stood  there  without  uttering 
another  word,  each  staring  wildly  at  the  other's 
shadowy  form  and  features  —  each  hearing  the 
other's  labored  breathing.  Ross  was  the  first  to  re- 
gain the  power  of  speech. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  asked  in  a 
strange,  altered  voice. 

"Trying  to  escape  from  a  bondage  worse  than 
death !"  she  replied  in  hard,  bitter  tones  in  which 
there  was  no  hint  of  tears. 

' '  You  —  you've  been  a  prisoner  among  the 
Indians?"  he  inquired  in  kinder  accents. 

"Yes;  but  that  isn't  what  I  mean,"  she 
answered  in  a  hopeless  voice. 

Again  both  were  silent.  The  baby  in  her  arms 
commenced  to  fret.  She  soothed  and  patted  it  to 
sleep  —  softly,  sadly  crooning  to  it.  By  this  time, 
the  lingering  twilight  had  faded  out ;  it  was  quite 
dark  in  the  forest.  Advancing  to  her  side,  Doug- 
las laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm  and  began  : 


346  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  Amy  Larkin ' ' 

' '  Amy  Hilliard !  ' '  she  interrupted  shrilly. 

He  drew  back  as  though  a  venomous  insect  had 
stung  him.  Her  voice  grated  harshly  upon  his 
nerves.  To  his  overwrought  imagination,  she 
seemed  a  lost  soul  mocking  at  its  own  misery. 
Taking  her  by  the  arm,  he  remarked  quietly  : 

"You're  tired.  There's  no  use  in  your  stand- 
ing. Seat  yourself  upon  this  log. ' ' 

Silently  she  obeyed,  trembling  in  every  limb. 
Picking  up  her  cloak,  he  placed  it  around  her 
shoulders.  His  act  of  kindness  softened  her  feel- 
ings ;  and  her  voice  was  tremulous  as  she  said 
simply : 

"Thank  you!" 

He  stood  looking  down  upon  her,  conflicting 
thoughts  and  emotions  rioting  in  his  brain.  At  last 
he  murmured  huskily  : 

"And  you  are  Amy  Larkin  no  longer  —  you  are 
Amy  Hilliard." 

"Yes,  I'm  Amy  Hilliard."  —  Her  voice  again 
hard  and  bitter.  —  "I  must  bear  the  hated  name  to 
my  grave." 

"You  are  George  Hilliard's  wife.  " 

"lam." 

Her  words  were  scarcely  audible. 

"And  the  child?" 

"Is  mine." 

"And  his?" 

' '  Yes.  I  —  am  —  his  —  wife  ;  this  —  is  —  our  — 
child  ! " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  347 

Each  word  fell  separately,  like  a  ringing  brazen 
coin.  Then  she  screamed  excitedly  : 

' '  But  my  innocent  child  shall  never  blush  for  its 
father  —  it  shall  never  know  him  !  I  hate  him  —  I 
loathe  him  !  The  brute  —  the  coward  —  the  mur- 
derer !  Oh  !  that  I  had  never  seen  him ' ' 

"Sh!"  he  cautioned.  "You're  talking  too 
loud.  Remember  we  are  surrounded  by  sharp- 
eared,  lynx-eyed  enemies.  Where  were  you  go- 
ing—  what  were  you  trying  to  do,  when  I  met 
you?" 

"Trying  to  escape,"  she  panted  in  a  strident 
whisper. 

"Softlyl"  he  again  cautioned.  "From  whom 
were  you  trying  to  escape  ?  " 

' '  From  my  captors,  the  Indians  at  Fort  Miami  — 
and  from  George  Milliard. " 

"  I  can't  understand,"  he  replied  wonderingly. 
"Is  your  —  your  husband  among  the  British,  at 
their  encampment  just  below  here  ?  " 

"Yes." 

' '  Then  you  and  the  child  must  return  to  him, " 
Ross  answered  firmly,  decidedly. 

"Never!"  she  hissed  through  her  set  teeth. 
"We'll  find  a  grave  in  the  river  first.  I  hate 
him,  I  tell  you — I  despise  and  loathe  him!"  — 
Then  pleadingly:  "Oh,  Ross  Douglas!  If  one 
spark  of  the  old  love  for  me  yet  burns  in  your 
bosom,  save  me  —  save  me  !  " 

"But  what  can  I  do?"  he  asked  in  perplexity. 
' '  You  are  his  wife  —  the  child  is  his ' ' 


348  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"Save  me  !  "  she  interrupted.  "I'm  trying  to 
reach  the  fort  across  the  river.  You  belong  there 
—  I  know  you  do.  Take  me  and  my  baby  with 
you — please  do  !  " 

"But  I  cannot,  Amy,"  he  replied  chokingly. 
' '  You  are  another  man's  wife  ;  I  must  not  steal  you 
away  from  him.  Then,  the  fort  is  closely  invested  ; 
I  don't  know  that  I  shall  be  able  to  reach  it  my- 
self —  alone  and  unhampered.  My  gun  is  empty  — 
I  am  practically  unarmed.  I'm  weak  from  loss  of 
blood,  fasting,  and  excessive  exertion.  No,  I  can't 
take  you  with  me  ;  the  risk  is  too  great.  You 
must  return  to  Fort  Miami " 

"That  I  will  never  do!"  she  answered  de- 
terminedly. ' '  If  you  leave  me  here,  I'll  drown 
myself  and  my  babe  in  the  river.  Better  a  thousand 
miserable  deaths  than  again  to  fall  into  that  man's 
power ! " 

Douglas  strode  up  and  down  in  front  of  her. 

"What  am  I  to  do  ?"  he  asked  himself.  "  How 
perverse  is  fate  !  I  have  found  her  at  last — but  lost 
her  forever.  Poor  girl !  She  is  innocent ;  she 
was  forced  into  the  hateful  marriage,  no  doubt.  But 
I  cannot  love  another's  wife.  If  I  abandon  her,  she 
will  destroy  herself  and  her  child.  She  means  what 
she  says.  If  I  take  them  with  me,  I  shall  risk 
their  lives  and  my  own.  And  Fort  Meigs  is  no 
place  for  her.  It  may  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
British.  In  that  case,  the  savages  will  massacre 
every  person  within  the  walls.  I  must  do  one  of 
two  things  —  take,  her  with  me  or " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  349 

Stopping  suddenly,  he  faced  his  companion  and 
said  in  earnest  tones  : 

"I've  decided  to  take  you  and  your  child  with 
me  —  to  attempt  to  conduct  you  to  Fort  Meigs,  in 
safety.  I  must  leave  you  for  a  short  time,  however, 
to  try  to  find  some  way  of  crossing  the  river.  Re- 
main here  quietly  until  I  return  for  you.  I'll  be 
gone  but  a  few  minutes." 

"  Ross,"  she  faltered,  "  you  —  you  will  not  desert 
me " 

"  Amy,"  he  cried  in  a  sharp  whisper,  "did  I  ever 
desert  you  —  ever  deceive  you?  " 

Bursting  into  tears,  she  buried  her  face  in  the 
folds  of  the  shawl  that  enveloped  her  child,  and 
moaned  brokenly  : 

' '  No  —  no  !  You  were  always  true  —  al- 
ways   " 

He  left  her  softly  sobbing,  and  made  his  way 
toward  the  river.  Every  few  yards  he  stopped, 
peered  into  the  surrounding  darkness,  and  listened 
intently.  But  he  saw  or  heard  nothing  of  an 
alarming  nature.  Presently  he  emerged  from  the 
gloomy  woods  and  stood  upon  the  sloping  bank  of 
the  stream.  Above  him,  the  black  vault  was 
studded  with  stars ;  beneath  him,  the  dark  water 
was  softly  lapping  upon  the  sandy  beach.  Down 
the  stream,  he  discovered  the  flaring  fires  of  the 
British  encampment  ;  and  up  the  river  —  and  on 
the  opposite  side  —  the  twinkling  lights  of  Fort 
Meigs.  The  confused,  indistinct  murmur  of  voices 
in  the  distance  was  borne  upon  the  evening  breeze. 


350  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Then  a  dog's  deep,  mournful  bay  fell  upon  the 
listener's  ear. 

"  Duke  !  "  he  muttered.  "He  has  escaped  the 
general  carnage  —  he's  at  the  fort.  Farley  and 
Bright  Wing  will  care  for  him,  if  I  lose  my  life." 

Cautiously  he  began  a  search  along  the  shore,  for 
some  means  of  crossing  the  stream.  The  soft  dip 
of  a  paddle  came  to  his  ear.  Silently  retreating  to 
some  overhanging  bushes,  he  waited,  watched,  and 
listened.  The  sound  of  the  paddle  became  more  and 
more  distinct.  Out  of  the  shadows,  emerged  a 
small  craft  containing  a  single  occupant.  It  rapidly 
approached  the  place  where  Douglas  stood.  The 
young  man  drew  his  knife  and,  gently  parting  the 
bushes,  peered  forth.  The  canoeman  was  a  stal- 
wart Indian.  The  next  moment,  the  light  vessel 
grated  upon  the  sands  and  the  unwary  paddler 
sprang  ashore.  Hardly  had  his  feet  touched  the 
earth,  ere  he  sank  in  his  tracks,  a  corpse,  with 
Douglas's  keen  knife  buried  in  his  heart. 

"It's  little  short  of  murder,"  muttered  the 
young  scout ;  ' '  but  there  was  no  alternative.  One 
of  us  had  to  die." 

Quickly  stooping,  he  rolled  the  body  of  his  fallen 
foe  into  the  river.  Drawing  the  canoe  ashore  and 
secreting  it  among  the  bushes,  he  rapidly  retraced 
his  steps  to  Amy  Hilliard  and  her  child.  He  found 
her  still  seated  upon  the  log,  her  face  buried  in  the 
folds  of  the  baby's  shawl.  Touching  her  upon  the 
shoulder,  he  said  simply  : 

"  I've  found  a  boat.     Come. " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  $$t 

Without  a  word,  she  arose.  Picking  up  his 
empty  gun,  he  led  the  way  toward  the  river.  She 
kept  close  at  his  heels,  panting  with  fear  and  excite- 
ment. Like  two  silent  specters,  they  threaded 
the  intricate  maze  of  the  forest.  On  reaching 
the  edge  of  the  wood,  he  remarked  in  a  cautious 
whisper  : 

"  Now  comes  the  most  dangerous  part  of  our 
journey.  Whatever  happens,  you  must  preserve 
perfect  silence.  Step  carefully  —  a  breaking  twig 
may  bring  a  dozen  warriors  upon  us.  Keep  close 
to  me  —  and  be  ready  to  obey  my  orders.  If  you 
see  me  drop  to  the  ground,  do  likewise." 

She  touched  his  arm,  in  token  that  she  understood 
and  would  obey,  but  said  nothing.  Down  the  bank, 
and  through  the  tangled  bushes  along  the  shore, 
they  slowly  made  their  way.  Skillfully  dragging 
the  canoe  from  its  hiding-place  and  launching  it, 
he  breathed  in  her  ear  : 

"  I,et  me  hold  the  child  while  you  get  in." 

"  But  it  may  cry,"  she  whispered  in  reply. 

"True,"  he  answered.  "Here  —  let  me  assist 
you.  Seat  yourself  in  the  bottom.  That's  right." 
—  Then  placing  his  rifle  in  the  bow  of  the  craft. — 
' '  Now  lay  the  baby  in  your  lap,  and  take  this 
paddle." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  sfce  asked,  alarm  in 
her  whispered  tone. 

"The  vessel  is  too  light  to  carry  all  of  us,"  he 
answered  quietly,  but  firmly.  "You  must  paddle 
to  the  opposite  shore.  I'll  turn  you  around  and 


352 

start  you.  Don't  lose  your  head — and  you'll 
land  safely." 

"  But  you?  "  she  inquired,  almost  inaudibly. 

"  I'll  swim  after  you.     Off  you  go." 

Watching  her  until  she  disappeared  in  the  dark- 
less, he  stealthily  dropped  into  the  water  and 
struck  out  in  the  wake  of  the  frail  boat.  A  few 
minutes  later  he  stood  upon  the  other  shore.  His 
garments  were  dripping  and  his  teeth  were  chatter- 
ing from  the  chill  of  the  water.  He  looked  about 
him  but  saw  nothing  of  the  canoe  or  its  occupants. 

"Amy,"  he  called  softly. 

But  he  received  no  reply. 

"  Amy,"  he  repeated,  a  little  louder  than  before* 

Still  no  answer. 

' '  What  can  have  become  of  her  ?  "  he  muttered  in 
deep  vexation  and  alarm.  "  She  should  have  landed 
near  this  point.  Is  it  possible  that  the  canoe  has 
capsized,  or  that  other  harm  has  befallen  her  ?  Ah  ! 
she  may  have  lost  her  paddle  —  she  may  be  drifting 
with  the  current. ' ' 

He  ran  down  the  stream,  peering  into  the  gloom 
that  overhung  the  water  as  he  went.  But  he  saw 
nothing  of  her  or  of  the  boat.  Many  times  he 
called  her  name,  as  loudly  as  he  dared.  No  answer- 
ing voice  came  to  him.  At  last  he  turned  and 
swiftly  retraced  his  steps.  He  had  just  reached 
the  point  where  he  had  come  ashore,  when  he  dis- 
covered a  dark  object  drifting  a  few  yards  from  the 
beach.  It  was  an  empty  canoe.  In  it  was  his  own 
gun,  but  no  sign  of  the  woman  or  child. 


'THE  SIGN  OP  THE  PROPtfET          353 

"  Lost  —  lost !  "  he  groaned,  wringing  his  hands. 
' '  Poor  Amy  !  "  —  And  the  tears  trickled  down  his 
cheeks. —  "  She's  drowned  —  she  and  her  baby  are 
sleeping  at  the  bottom  of  the  treacherous  river. — 
No  !  There  is  no  water  in  the  canoe,  and  my  gun  is 
where  I  placed  it.  The  frail  craft  did  not  capsize. 
Some  harm  must  have  befallen  her,  just  as  she 
reached  land  —  ere  she  could  secure  the  vessel.  " 

Snatching  up  his  gun,  he  set  off  at  full  speed.  He 
had  gone  but  a  short  distance,  when  he  stopped  and 
sharply  caught  his  breath.  A  cloaked  figure  was 
hurrying  toward  him.  It  was  the  woman  he  sought. 

"Amy,  it's  you  —  thank  God  !  "  he  ejaculated 
fervently,  as  she  reached  his  side.  "I've  been 
searching  for  you.  I  discovered  the  drifting  canoe 
and,  for  a  moment,  thought  you  were  drowned. 
Where  have  you  been  ? ' ' 

She  was  greatly  excited.  Abject  terror  was  in 
her  voice,  as  she  whispered  in  reply  : 

"I  have  been  hiding.  I  heard  you  calling  me, 
but  didn't  dare  to  answer.  Just  as  I  stepped  from 
the  canoe,  a  number  of  Indians  and  a  white  man  came 
down  the  bank  toward  me.  I  quickly  cast  the  boat 
adrift  and  hid  myself  among  some  brush.  There  I 
lay  quaking  with  fear,  for  —  oh,  God  !  the  white 
man  was  George  Hilliard.  They  stood  near  me 
and  talked  of  my  escape.  They  were  searching  for 
me.  I  could  hear  his  hateful  voice  —  could  hear 
every  word  he  said.  I  almost  smothered  my  baby  ; 
I  was  so  afraid  it  would  cry  and  betray  my  presence. 
At  last  they  left  and  went  farther  up  the  stream. 
23 


354  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Then  I  heard  you  calling  me,  but  was  afraid  to 
answer.  Oh,  Ross  —  Ross !  Do  save  me  from 
that  man  !  If  you  find  you  cannot,  kill  me  and  my 
baby  —  in  God's  name,  do!" 

.  "There  — there!"  he  said  soothingly.  "I'll 
save  you  —  I'll  get  you  to  the  fort.  Let  me  sup- 
port you.  You  can  hardly  stand.  Come." 

They  scrambled  up  the  bank  and  made  a  narrow 
detour  to  the  left,  to  avoid  the  party  she  had  seen. 
A  half  hour  later,  Douglas  had  skillfully  piloted  his 
companion  through  the  savages  encircling  the  fort, 
and  was  thundering  at  one  of  the  gates  for  admis- 
sion. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

ON  GAINING  entrance  to  the  fort,  Ross  placed 
Amy  and  her  child  in  care  of  some  refugees, 
who  occupied  a  large  tent  at  the  eastern  end  of 
the  inclosure,  immediately  behind  the  grand  traverse, 
and  went  to  hunt  his  comrades.     He  found  them  at 
a  camp-fire,  around  which  a  number  of  lolling  sol- 
diers were  talking  and  smoking. 

Duke  was  the  first  to  note  the  presence  of  his 
master  ;  and,  with  a  yelp  of  joy,  sprang  to  meet  him. 
Bright  Wing  uttered  a  guttural  exclamation,  which 
was  smothered  by  Farley's  lusty  shout : 

"  Ross  Douglas — 'r  my  name  ain't  Joe  Farley  ! 
Alive  an'  a-livin'  —  but  wetter'n  a  drownded  mus'- 
rat  an'  lookin'  paler  'n  a  piller-case  !  Youngster, 
you've  been  in  the  dangedest  scrimmage  that  ever 
was  —  anybody  can  see  that.  How  in  the  name  o' 
all  the  purty  women  in  the  universe,  did  you  ever  git 
out  o'  that  yaller-jackets'  nest,  an'  make  y'r  way 
here ?  Set  down  an'  tell  us  all  'bout  it." 

Douglas  dropped  upon  the  ground  and,  affection- 
ately patting  Duke's  head,  replied  wearily : 

"  I'm  thoroughly  exhausted,  Joe.  Get  me  some- 
thing to  eat." 

"  That's  it!  "  cried  one  of  the  soldiers.  "  Git  y'r 
comrade  somethin'  to  eat,  Limber  Tongue.  He's 
'bout  played  out." 

(355) 


3$6  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  Dang-it-all-to-dingnation  ! ' '  grumbled  Joe.  ' '  I 
never  did  have  no  sense!  The  idee  o'  askin'  a  man, 
who  hain't  had  a  bite  to  eat  sence  last  night  at  this 
time,  to  set  down  an'  spin  yarns.  I've  a  notion  to 
pull  my  larripin'  tongue  out  by  the  roots  —  I  have, 
by  Molly !  An'  you've  got  some  scratches,  too, 
Ross  Douglas  ;  an'  wher'  you  ain't  pale,  you're 
blacker'n  a  nigger  with  powder  smoke,  an'  redder'n 
an  Injin  with  blood.  Set  there  an'  rest  an'  dry  y'r 
duds.  I'll  have  you  somethin',  in  a  jiffy,  that'll 
make  you  feel  better  —  I  will,  by  ginger  !  " 

Still  muttering  to  himself,  of  his  own  shortcom- 
ings, Farley  left  the  group  around  the  fire.  When 
he  returned  a  few  minutes  later,  he  cried  exultingly : 

"Along  an'  limber  tongue  maybe  a  nuisance 
most  o'  the  time,  but  once  in  a  while  it  comes 
mighty  handy.  Jest  now  mine  helped  me  to  p'r- 
suade  Ol'  Tippecanoe  to  divide  his  supper  with  you, 
Ross  Douglas ' ' 

' '  What !  ' '  Douglas  interrupted  sternly.  ' '  Surely, 
Joe,  you  didn't  go  to  the  commander  and  ask  him 
for  food  for  me." 

"  Surely  I  did,"  Farley  replied  coolly. 

The  soldiers  burst  into  roars  of  laughter.  Ross's 
face  flushed  angrily.  But  Farley  continued  naively: 

"You  see,  it  was  jest  like  this.  You  had  to  have 
somethin'  to  eat  —  an'  you  needed  it  quick.  Well, 
our  suppers  was  over  —  no  chance  fer  you  there.  I 
could  'ave  gone  to  the  commissary  an'  got  some  raw 
grub,  but  it  would  'ave  took  time  to  cook  it.  In 
the  meantime  you  was  starvin'.  So  thinks  I,  'I'll 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  357 

jest  go  to  Ol'  Tippecanoe  —  I'm  purty  well  ac- 
quainted with  him  by  this  time,  an'  he's  probably 
at  supper  — an'  ask  him  to  divide  his  supper  with 
Ross  Douglas.'  So  that's  what  I  done.  An'  here's 
y'r  grub  —  steamin'  hot  an'  calkerlated  to  make 
you  feel  like  a  fightin'  cock." 

And  with  the  words,  Farley  triumphantly  spread 
the  food  upon  the  ground  before  his  exhausted 
friend. 

"  There's  hot  coffee,"  he  said,  "  an'  hot  pone,  an' 
hot  meat.  They'll  warm  up  y'r  in'ards  an'  limber 
up  y'r  tongue.  Fall  to  now  —  'fore  the  things  gits 
cold." 

Douglas  required  no  urging.  He  was  trembling 
with  hunger  and  fatigue ;  he  felt  as  though  he 
should  faint,  if  he  fasted  much  longer.  With 
evident  satisfaction,  Farley  and  Bright  Wing 
silently  watched  him  as  he  ate.  Duke  rested  his 
nose  upon  his  master's  knee  and,  heaving  a  sigh  of 
content,  drowsily  closed  his  great  eyes.  The  sol- 
diers knocked  the  ashes  from  their  pipes  and,  one 
by  one,  curled  up  in  their  blankets  and  fell  asleep. 
When  Ross  had  finished,  he  stretched  his  feet  to  the 
fire  and,  turning  to  Farley,  asked  smilingly  : 

' '  What  did  General  Harrison  say  when  you  made 
a  demand  upon  him,  for  a  share  of  his  supper  for 
me?  " 

' '  Said  it  '  forded  him  great  pleasure  to  do  so  —  a 
pleasure  'xceeded  only  by  the  pleasure  he  felt  in 
knowin'  you  was  still  alive  an'  able  to  eat.  Then 
he  told  me  to  say  to  you  to  call  at  his  quarters,  in 


358  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

the  mornin';  that  he  wanted  to  meet  you  ag'in,  an' 
that  ther'  was  a  subject  demandin'  your  attention  — 
'r  words  to  that  effect." 

A  pleased  expression  rested  upon  Douglas's 
powder-stained  face,  as  he  said  : 

"And  I  shall  be  delighted  to  meet  my  old  com- 
mander again.  He's  one  of  nature's  gentlemen." 

Then  he  dreamily  stared  into  the  red  embers,  and 
was  silent. 

"Ix>ok  here  !"  Joe  cried  in  a  testy  tone.  "  Don't 
be  goin'  back  into  the  past  an'  dreamin'  'bout 
things  that  can  never  be,  Ross  Douglas.  Me  an' 
Bright  Wing  wants  to  hear  'bout  how  you  sarcum- 
vented  the  redskins  an'  got  here  to  the  fort.  Don't 
we,  Injin?" 

The  Wyandot  lifted  his  head  from  between  his 
knees  and  answered : 

"Ugh!  Want  know  'bout  fight  —  heap  much, 
all,  everything." 

Douglas  smiled  wearily  and  began  his  narrative. 
As  he  proceeded  with  his  graphic  description  of  the 
battle  and  the  incidents  and  adventures  following  it, 
his  interested  comrades  drew  closer  to  him  and  lis- 
tened with  eager  attention,  to  every  word  that  fell 
from  his  lips.  The  camp-fires  died  down ;  the 
garrison  was  wrapped  in  silence  and  darkness. 
Nothing  broke  the  stillness  but  Douglas's  whispered 
tones,  the  heavy  breathing  of  the  sleeping  soldiers, 
and  the  muffled  footfalls  of  the  sentries  pacing  their 
beats  about  the  walls.  At  last  Ross  closed  his  re- 
cital, and  yawningly  remarked  : 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  359 

"  I've  told  you  all.  Now  let's  lie  down  to 
rest ;  my  eyes  are  so  heavy  that  I  caii  hardly  keep 
them  open." 

"An'  no  wonder,"  Farley  murmured.  "Ross, 
you've  been  through  a  heap  to-day  —  a  dang  sight! 
But  jest  let  me  ask  you  one  question.  Now  you've 
found  ol'  Sam  Larkin's  gal  —  an'  she's  a  wife  an'  a 
mother  —  what' re  you  goin'  to  do?  " 

"Save  her  from  the  brute  who  has  ruined  her 
life,"  Douglas  replied  fiercely. 

"  That's  all  right,"  Joe  persisted.  "But  how're 
you  goin'  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet,"  Douglas  answered.  "  I've 
not  learned  what  she  desires." 

"Well,  you  can't  marry  her,  of  course." 

"What  nonsense  you're  talking,  Joe!"  Ross 
cried  sharply.  "She's  the  wife  of  another.  Let's 
drop  the  subject." 

"Ugh!  No  Fleet  Foot's  squaw — fat  paleface's 
squaw,"  grunted  Bright  Wing  sagely. 

"  An'  Fleet  Foot  takes  it  mighty  cool,  too,"  Farley 
muttered  to  himself.  "  'Pears  to  me  he'sthinkin'  a 
heap  more  'bout  the  little  red-headed  gal  he  hain't 
found,  than  he  is  'bout  this  gal  he  has  found.  But 
I  don't  blame  him.  Amy  parkin's  played  him  false 
—  she  wanrt  forced  into  no  marriage.  You  can't 
fool  me  on  women  folks.  Hain't  I  had  the  'xperi- 
ence,  I'd  like  to  know?  Oh,  gosh,  yes  !  " 

The  three  rolled  over  upon  the  ground,  and  two  of 
them  were  soon  snoring  loudly.  But  Ross  did  not 
fall  asleep  so  readily.  For  an  hour  or  more,  he  lay 


360  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

with  closed  lids  thinking  —  thinking.  At  last,  how- 
ever, outraged  nature  asserted  itself. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  young  scout  managed 
to  procure  enough  water  to  remove  the  stains  of 
battle  from  his  person.  After  he  had  washed  him- 
self, dressed  his  slight  wounds,  and  eaten  his  break- 
fast, he  went  to  call  upon  General  Harrison. 

The  commander's  seamed  visage  was  alight  with 
genuine  pleasure,  as  he  took  Ross  by  the  hand  and 
led  him  to  a  seat.  Closely  scanning  his  caller's 
face,  the  old  warrior  remarked  : 

"Douglas,  I'm  delighted  to  see  you  —  to  again 
grasp  your  hand.  I  didn't  know  you  were  with 
General  Clay's  command  ;  that  you  were  in  yester- 
day's terrible  battle" —  the  commander's  careworn 
features  twitched  —  "until  your  two  old  comrades 
came  to  me  and  asked  permission  to  go  to  your  aid. " 

"  Did  they  do  that?  "  Ross  quickly  inquired. 

"Yes,  indeed.     Didn't  they  tell  you  ?  " 

Douglas  shook  his  head  ;  tears  were  in  his  eyes. 

"They're  loyal  fellows,"  Harrison  continued 
feelingly  ;  "  they  would  give  their  lives  for  you,  at 
any  time." 

"I  know,"  Douglas  answered  chokingly.  "  I've 
four  good  friends,  at  least,  General  Harrison  — 
yourself,  my  two  old  comrades,  and  my  dog.  I've 
had  a  varied  experience  in  the  last  eighteen 
months.  I've  endured  much " 

"And  all  for  your  country's  sake,"  the  general 
interrupted.  ' '  You  have  suffered  mentally  and 
physically. " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  361 

Douglas  remained  silent  and  Harrison  contin- 
ued : 

'  'And  the  worst  is  not  come.  But  we'll  go  on 
to  the  glorious  end." 

' '  Yes, "  was  the  firm  reply. 

"  Yes,"  the  commander  went  on,"  all  of  us  have 
made  sacrifices  for  home  and  country.  But  oppo- 
sition will  not  appal  us  ;  defeat  will  not  discourage 
us.  We  are  Americans.  This  exacting  service,  with 
its  suspense  —  its  disappointments,  is  calculated 
to  discourage  and  unnerve.  But,  pshaw  !  "  —  with 
a  light  laugh —  "of  what  am  I  talking?  We're 
American  patriots  —  we  can  stand  anything." 

Then  with  animation  : 

"But  I  didn't  bring  you  here  to  talk  of  such 
things.  During  yesterday's  sorties  we  took  a  num- 
ber of  prisoners — British  regulars,  Canadian 
militiamen,  and  Indians.  At  present  they're  con- 
fined in  the  blockhouses ;  and  among  those  in  the 
blockhouse  at  the  southeastern  angle  of  the  fortifi- 
cation, is  an  old  acquaintance  of  yours." 

' '  An  acquaintance  of  mine  ?  ' '  Douglas  remarked 
wonderingly. 

' '  Yes  —  a  man  both  of  us  have  good  reason  to 
remember. ' ' 

"Ah  !  Who  is  it,  General  ?" 

"Hiram  Bradford." 

lyike  one  electrified,  Douglas  sprang  erect  —  his 
lips  apart,  his  cheeks  flushed. 

"Hiram  Bradford  !  "  he  ejaculated. 

General  Harrison  nodded. 


362  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  And  you  have  seen  him,  General  ?  " 

"I  have." 

' '  Did  he  send  for  you  ?  ' ' 

"No  ;  I  knew  nothing  of  his  capture,  till  I  went 
among  the  prisoners,  yesterday  evening.  I  recog- 
nized him  instantly,  although  he  has  changed  much 
since  the  Tippecanoe  campaign.  Evidently  he  is 
not  in  good  health.  He's  emaciated,  and  his  hair 
is  white  as  snow.  But  he's  the  same  cool,  self- 
reliant  villian. " 

Harrison  uttered  this  last  sentence,  in  a  tone  of 
intense  and  bitter  hatred.  Ross  Douglas  winced. 
Instantly  he  realized  what  Bradford's  fate  was  likely 
to  be.  But  hiding  his  feelings  as  well  as  he  could, 
the  young  man  inquired  : 

"Did  you  talk  with  him,  General  Harrison?  " 

' '  A  little.  I  called  him  by  name.  He  didn't 
attempt  to  conceal  his  identity.  He  asked  about 
you;  and  when  I  informed  him  you  were  with 
Colonel  Dudley,  in  the  battle  across  the  river,  and 
hadn'  t  returned  to  the  i ort  with  the  survivors,  he 
groaned  aloud.  When  he  had  recovered  his  equanim- 
ity, he  exacted  from  me  a  promise  that,  should 
you  return,  I  would  send  you  to  him.  For  some 
reason,  Douglas,  that  scoundrel  is  interested  in  your 
welfare  —  for  some  reason  he  likes  you  very  much. 
His  actions  toward  you  in  the  past,  his  agitation 
about  your  welfare  yesterday,  prove  it." 

Kor  a  moment  Ross  stood  with  downcast  eyes  and  ' 
said  nothing.      Then  suddenly  looking  up,  he  in- 
quired with  a  show  of  emotion  : 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  363 

"He  didn't  ask  for  mercy  at  your  hands,  Gen- 
eral?" 

The  general  slowly  shook  his  head,  all  the  while 
keenly  eyeing  his  companion. 

' '  Nor  inquired  as  to  his  fate  ?  ' ' 

"Not  a  word." 

"  But  he  asked  that  I  be  sent  to  him,  upon  my 
return?  " 

General  Harrison  again  nodded,  and  remarked  : 

"  Here's  a  pass  that  will  admit  you  to  his  pres- 
ence. When  you  have  talked  with  him,  return  to 
me." 

Douglas  silently  took  the  bit  of  paper  extended 
to  him,  and  turned  to  leave  the  tent.  At  the  door 
he  paused  and,  looking  back,  said : 

1 '  General  Harrison.  ' ' 

"Well?" 

"  Will  Hiram  Bradford  be  exchanged?  " 

"  He  —  will  —  not !  " — slowly  and  distinctly. 

"  And  his  fate  ?" 

' '  An  ignominious  death  —  probably  !  It  all  de- 
pends upon  what  a  court-martial  may  do. ' ' 

And  General  Harrison's  thin  lips  were  firmly 
drawn  ;  his  brows,  lowering. 

Douglas  again  bowed,  and  quickly  withdrew.  On 
reaching  the  open  air,  he  took  a  deep  breath  and, 
lifting  his  eyes  to  the  clouded  heavens,  moved  his 
lips  as  though  in  prayer.  Then,  at  a  brisk  pace,  he 
set  out  toward  the  blockhouse  where  Bradford  was 
confined.  As  he  passed  along,  he  observed  a  num- 
ber of  children  playing  in  front  of  a  large  tent. 


364  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  I  must  call  upon  Amy,  first, ' '  he  thought ;  ' '  she 
may  be  needing  something. ' ' 

Gently  pushing  aside  the  children  who  crowded 
the  doorway,  he  entered  the  tent.  Several  families 
were  quartered  within.  Bedding  and  cooking  uten- 
sils were  scattered  about  promiscuously.  Near  the 
entrance  sat  a  plethoric  matron  industriously  knit- 
ting. She  looked  up  at  Douglas's  unannounced  en- 
trance and,  chuckling  asthmatically,  remarked  by 
way  of  greeting : 

"  Come  in.  But  I  don't  see  how  you  got  through 
the  swarm  o'  young'uns.  As  the  Britishers  has 
quit  the'r  shootin',  we  thought  it  'Id  be  no  harm  to 
let  the  little  things  go  out  an'  play.  They  was 
pinin'  fer  fresh  air,  you  know.  Say! — how  long 
do  you  think  it'll  be  'fore  we  can  go  back  to  our 
cabins  ? ' ' 

"  I  have  no  idea,"  Ross  replied,  pausing  momen- 
tarily. 

"  You  hain't?  "  —  in  evident  surprise. —  "  Hain't 
you  got  somethin'  to  do  with  managin'  the  war  ?  " 

Douglas  shook  his  head. 

"  Well  —  well!  "  she  continued.  "  I  knowed  you 
wasn't  an  officer,  'xactly,  fer  you  don't  wear  no  uni- 
form ;  but  I  thought  you  surely  was  a  soldier  o' 
some  kind  —  such  a  trim  young  feller  as  you  be. 
Then  you  hain't  got  nothin'  to  do  with  runnin'  the 
war?" 

Ross  smilingly  disclaimed  the  honor. 

"  Oh  !  "  the  woman  exclaimed  suddenly^  laugh- 
ing until  her  fat  sides  shook  and  she  threatened  to 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  365 

suffocate.  "  I  know  you  now.  You're  the  feller 
that  fetched  the  poor  young  woman  here,  last  night. 
You've  got  y'r  face  washed  —  an' I  didn't  know 
you.  They  say  you  was  in  the  fight  'cross  the 
river.  Had  a  hard  time  of  it,  didn't  you?  The 
young  woman?  She's  over  there  on  that  pile  o' 
beddin'.  She  ain't  feelin'  re'l  peart,  this  morn- 
inV 

Douglas  hurriedly  passed  on  to  the  spot  indicated. 
Amy  lay  upon  an  improvised  bed  near  the  center  of 
the  tent.  At  his  approach,  she  arose  to  a  sitting 
posture  and  smiled  feebly.  In  the  semi-twilight  of 
the  interior,  she  looked  wan  and  haggard.  Her 
clothing  was  threadbare  and  shabby  ;  her  brown 
hair,  falling  about  her  shoulders,  was  a  tangled  mass. 
The  corners  of  her  mouth  were  sagged.  Truly  she 
was  a  wreck.  Little  of  her  girlish  beauty  remained. 
Douglas  looked  upon  her,  and  shuddered  at  the  aw- 
ful change  in  her  appearance. 

Near  the  bedside  sat  a  middle-aged  woman,  striv- 
ing vainly  to  soothe  Amy's  fretful  child.  The 
emaciated,  peevish  baby  was  a  miniature  of  its 
mother.  Its  cry  was  weak  and  querulous.  Appar- 
ently it  was  about  six  months  old  ;  but  it  had  the 
claw-like  hands  and  mummified  features  of  an  old 
woman.  Yet  Ross  noted  its  resemblance  to  its 
mother. 

Taking  the  thin,  calloused  hand  extended  toward 
him,  he  seated  himself  and  asked  kindly  : 

' '  How  are  you  feeling  this  morning,  Amy  ?  " 

"  Not  very  well.      Baby's  cross — and  my  head 


366  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

aches." — Then,  after  a  slight  pause,  she  added 
gloomily  : 

"  But  I'm  feeling  as  well  as  I  ever  expect  to 
feel." 

"Don't  say  that,"  he  remonstrated.  "You'll 
regain  your  health  and  strength  —  and  again  be 
happy." 

Sadly  shaking  her  head,  she  replied  : 

"I'll  regain  my  health  and  strength,  I  hope.  I 
must  do  so  for  baby's  sake  ;  she  needs  my  care  and 
protection.  But,  for  me,  happiness  is  a  thing  of  the 
past. " 

' '  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  turned  away  her  face  and  made  no  reply. 
The  woman  holding  the  babe  arose  and  sauntered  to 
another  part  of  the  tent. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  for  you  happiness  is  a 
thing  of  the  past  ?  "  Douglas  pursued.  ' '  You  are 
young,  Amy  —  life  is  all  before  you " 

"  Listen!  "  she  interrupted.  "  I  say  there  is  no 
further  happiness  for  me,  because  my  heart  is  broken 
—  is  dead  within  me." 

For  some  seconds  both  were  silent,  neither  look- 
ing at  the  other.  At  last  he  inquired  : 

"  Where  will  JTOU  go  when  you  leave  here  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  —  yet." 

There  was  a  world  of  meaning  in  the  last  word. 
And  as  she  uttered  it,  she  turned  her  hollow  eyes 
full  upon  her  questioner.  Ross  saw  the  soul-hun- 
ger reflected  in  her  face  —  and  he  started.  Their 
eyes  met.  She  dropped  her  white  lids,  and  the  hot 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  367 

blood  mantled  her  pale  cheeks.  An  embarrassing 
silence  fell  upon  them.  He  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Amy,"  he  murmured  softly,  "I  want  to  help 
you  —  I  want  to  be  kind  to  you " 

Passionately  she  caught  his  hand  in  both  of  hers, 
and  whispered  —  all  her  soul  in  her  voice  and  man- 
ner : 

"Ross  —  Ross!  Listen  to  me  !  Say  that  you'll 
take  me  away  from  here  —  to  a  place  where  George 
Hilliard  can  never  find  us  —  where  we  can  begin 
life  over  and " 

The  look  in  his  eyes  repelled  her  advances  ;  and 
breaking  off  in  the  middle  of  the  sentence,  she  trem- 
bled and  was  silent. 

Gently  but  firmly  withdrawing  his  hand  from  her 
clinging  clasp,  he  said  —  almost  sternly  : 

"  Amy,  what  you  have  in  mind  can  never  be.  I 
loved  Amy  L,arkin  tenderly  and  truly.  Amy  Hil- 
liard I  have  no  right  to  love!  " 

For  a  moment  she  stared  at  him,  as  though  she 
did  not  comprehend.  Then,  with  a  groan,  she  fell 
back  upon  the  bed  and,  hiding  her  face,  burst  into 
tears. 

Ross  was  greatly  moved.  He  pitied  her  sin- 
cerely ;  yet  he  felt  that  he  had  done  right  in  telling 
her  the  truth.  Now  he  bent  over  her  and  whis- 
pered soothingly  : 

' '  Do  not  weep.  The  past  is  forever  past.  For 
months,  I  was  a  wounded  prisoner  among  the  sav- 
ages. As  soon  as  I  could,  I  made  my  escape  and 
went  back  to  Franklinton.  But  you  were  gone. 


368  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

No  one  knew  of  your  whereabouts  —  you  had  left 
no  trail  behind  you.  I  went  to  your  old  home  in 
Pennsylvania.  I  was  disappointed.  At  last  I  have 
found  you.  But  you  are  the  wife  of  another.  Of 
course  you  were  forced  into  the  hateful  mar- 
riage   ' ' 

She  had  been  convulsively  sobbing.  Suddenly 
she  snatched  her  hands  from  her  face  and,  spring- 
ing erect,  cried  excitedly  : 

' '  Ross  Douglas,  I've  been  deceiving  you.  I 
hoped  that  you  still  loved  me  —  that  I  could  win  you 
back  —  that  I  still  might  be  happy  with  you.  That 
hope  is  dead.  I'll  deceive  you  with  my  silence, 
no  longer.  I'll  tell  you  the  truth — all  —  every- 
thing!" 

For  one  fleeting  second,  she  paused  and  hungrily 
searched  his  face,  still  hoping  to  detect  there  some 
faint  glimmer  of  the  passion  he  had  borne  her.  His 
features  were  pale,  but  calm  —  impassive  ;  his  man- 
ner was  keenly  expectant.  Stifling  a  sob,  she 
dashed  the  hot  tears  from  her  eyes  and  proceeded 
hurriedly : 

' '  When  you  left  me  at  Franklinton  and  went  to 
join  General  Harrison's  army,  I  was  piqued.  I 
argued  with  my  better  self  that  you  didn't  love  me, 
as  you  had  professed,  or  you  wouldn't  have  left  me. 
I  felt  angry  —  spiteful.  I  wanted  to  do  something 
to  make  you  suffer.  My  father  and  George  Hilliard 
taunted  me  with  your  desertion.  They  said  you 
had  been  too  ready  to  leave  me  —  that  you  didn't 
love  me  —  that  you  wouldn't  return.  I  listened  to 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  369 

them — I  half  believed  them.  A  month  from  the 
day  of  your  departure,  I  had  convinced  myself  of 
your  perfidy  and  had  consented  to  marry  George 
Milliard." 

She  paused  momentarily,  to  moisten  her  dry  lips. 
Ross  Douglas's  eyes  were  shining  with  a  strange, 
indefinable  light.  But  he  said  nothing.  Hastily 
she  resumed : 

' '  Let  me  hurry  over  the  events  of  my  brief  mar- 
ried life  —  I  cannot  bear  to  recall  them.  I  promised 
to  marry  George  Hilliard,  on  condition  that  my 
father  should  sell  off  everything  and  remove  to  a 
place  where  you  would  never  find  me.  For,  in  spite 
of  all  my  reasoning,  I  felt  guilty.  We  disposed  of 
our  property  and  removed  to  French  town,  between 
here  and  Detroit.  On  our  arrival  there,  George 
Hilliard  and  I  were  married.  Before  our  marriage 
he  had  been  very  kind  to  me ;  humored  me  — 
spoiled  me.  But  scarcely  was  he  my  husband,  ere 
his  whole  nature  seemed  to  change.  He  began  to 
drink  heavily,  to  curse  me,  to  abuse  me.  Then  I 
realized  the  sad  truth  that  I  had  married  a  drunken 
brute!" 

•     For  half  a  minute  she  could  not  proceed.     When 
she  had  regained  control  of  herself,  she  said  huskily  : 

"  He  was  jealous.  He  accused  me  of  still  loving 
you.  And  —  God  help  me  !  —  I  couldn't  deny  the 
accusation.  He  tormented  me  —  he  beat  me.  My 
father  remonstrated  ;  and  the  two  had  many  fierce 
quarrels.  At  last  my  child  was  born  —  six  months 
ago.  A  few  days  after,  my  husband  demanded  that 
24 


370  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

my  father  give  him  money  with  which  to  buy  land. 
My  father  refused  —  and  again  they  quarreled.  In 
a  whirlwind  of  drunken  rage,  George  Milliard 
caught  up  an  axe  and  struck  my  father  a  blow  that 
laid  him  dead  upon  the  floor.  I — I  saw  it  all, 
while  lying  helpless  upon  my  bed  ! ' ' 

Once  more  she  stopped  in  her  recital.  No  sound 
broke  the  stillness  of  the  place,  but  the  fretful  cry 
of  her  child  in  another  part  of  the  tent.  Douglas's 
jaws  were  set ;  his  hands,  clenched.  With  a  flut- 
tering sigh,  Amj'  continued  : 

' '  After  he  had  murdered  my  father,  George 
Hilliard  took  all  the  money  he  could  find  and  fled. 
For  weeks  I  lay  between  life  and  death,  hardly 
realizing  where  I  was  or  what  had  happened.  The 
good  people  of  the  settlement  provided  for  my 
wants,  and  took  care  of  me.  Slowly  I  regained 
something  of  my  wonted  strength.  But  I  had  no 
means  of  support  ;  so,  with  a  number  of  others  who 
were  returning  to  the  East,  I  set  out  for  western 
Pennsylvania,  hoping  to  find  a  shelter  among  my 
father's  people.  But  a  short  distance  up  the  lake 
from  here,  our  company  was  set  upon  by  a  band  of 
Indians,  and  we  were  taken  prisoners  and  brought 
to  the  British  encampment.  Among  the  savages 
who  attacked  our  party  was  George  Hilliard,  dis- 
guised as  an  Indian.  He  recognized  me  —  of 
course.  He  mocked  at  my  misery,  cuffed  and 
kicked  me,  and  threatened  to  kill  my  baby " 

Here  her  voice  almost  failed  her.  But  she  went 
on  resolutely : 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  371 

' '  I  believe  he  would  have  done  so,  had  it  not 
been  for  an  angel  at  the  encampment  —  I  can't 
call  her  anything  else  —  a  beautiful  girl  who 
shielded  me  from  his  violence,  and  helped  me  to 
escape.  Oh,  how  beautiful  her  face  was  —  but  how 
sad  !  She  had  red-gold  hair,  and  eyes  of  heaven's 
own  blue " 

Ross  Douglas  had  arisen  to  his  feet.  Eagerly  he 
asked  : 

' '  And  her  name  —  her  name  ?  ' ' 

Amy  Milliard  keenly  eyed  her  questioner,  before 
replying.  Presently  she  said  slowly  : 

' '  I  heard  my  captors  call  her  L,a  Violette. ' ' 

Douglas,  in  spite  of  a  strong  effort  to  control 
himself,  uttered  an  exclamation  of  joyful  surprise. 
His  countenance  was  alight,  his  eyes  were  shin- 
ing. 

"You  know  her?  "  Amy  said,  with  lifted  brows. 

' '  Yes  —  I  know  her, ' '  he  replied  cautiously. 
"  Go  on  with  your  story." 

But  she  did  not.     Instead  she  inquired  : 

' '  How  long  have  you  known  her  ?  ' ' 

"  Ever  since  I  was  a  captive  among  the  Indians," 
he  answered  candidly.  "She  nursed  me  when  I 
was  wounded  ;  she  helped  me  to  escape. ' ' 

Her  woman's  intuition  enabled  her  to  arrive  at 
the  truth  at  a  bound.  Calmly  she  said  : 

"  Ross,  you  love  this  beautiful  girl  —  you  love 
La  Violette." 

He  made  no  reply  in  words.  But  the  hot  blood 
crimsoned  his  tanned  cheeks  and  mounted  to  his 


372  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

white  forehead.  Then  the  tell-tale  tide  receded  as 
quickly  as  it  had  arisen  ;  and  again  he  was  out- 
wardly calm. 

At  that  moment,  the  woman  who  had  been  caring 
for  the  baby  approached  the  mother  and  remarked  : 

"  The  little  thing's  gone  to  sleep,  at  last.  I  see 
you're  feelin'  better,"  — in  a  slightly  sarcastic  tone 
—  "so  I'll  let  you  take  care  of  her  now,  while  I 
look  after  my  own  affairs." 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness,"  Amy  mur- 
mured confusedly. 

"You're  welcome,"  the  woman  replied,  with  a 
slight  toss  of  the  head,  and  turned  and  left. 

"  You  love  La  Violette,"  the  young  woman  re- 
peated, again  fixing  her  gaze  upon  Ross's  face. 

"Yes,  I  love  her,  Amy,"  he  answered  deliber- 
ately. "  But  I  didn't  fully  realize  the  fact  until 
this  hour.  She  was  very  kind  to  me  during  my 
captivity.  She  loved  me  —  and  I  knew  it.  But  I 
thought  of  you  ;  and  blinded  myself  to  her  charms. 
I  was  true  to  you  through  it  all  —  in  deed  and  in 
thought.  As  soon  as  I  escaped,  I  returned  to  your 
home,  intending — desiring  to  make  you  my  wife. 
You  were  gone.  But  still  I  thought  you  true.  I 
had  no  idea  that  you  would  marry  George  Milliard, 
of  your  own  choice.  I  searched  for  you  —  longed 
for  you.  I  loved  you  still  —  I  believed  in  your  love 
for  me.  Yesterday  I  found  you.  I  said  to  myself  : 
'  She  has  been  forced  into  this  marriage  —  she  isn't 
to  blame.  But  she  is  lost  to  me  forever ;  I  have 
no  right  to  love  her  now.'  Then  L,a  Violette 's 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  373 

face  arose  before  me.  And  I  knew  that  I  loved 
her  —  that  my  love  for  you  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 
Last  night  was  the  first  time  that  I  acknowledged 
to  myself  that  I  loved  La  Violette.  But  I  argued 
with  myself  that  you  hadn't  been  at  fault,  and 
that  it  would  be  cruel  —  heartless  for  me  to  think 
of  marrying  La  Violette,  should  I  ever  find  her. 
In  the  silent  watches  of  the  night  —  alone  with  my 
God  —  I  resolved  to  give  up  all  quest  for  her,  to  re- 
main faithful  to  my  plighted  troth.  But  this  morn- 
ing " 

He  broke  off  abruptly  and  looked  her  full  in  the 
eyes. 

"  Go  on,"  she  whispered,  with  pale  lips. 

' '  But  this  morning  you  have  told  me  your  story  ; 
and " 

Again  he  stopped. 

"  Well?  "  she  breathed  faintly. 

"/—  am—  free!" 

Spasmodically  hugging  her  baby  to  her  breast, 
she  sank  back  upon  the  bed  and  turned  her  face 
from  him.  He  saw  that  she  was  pale  and  trem- 
bling ;  and  he  sincerely  pitied  her.  Bending  over 
her,  he  whispered  gently  : 

"I'll  be  your  friend,  Amy,  as  in  the  past.  I'll 
do  all  in  my  power  to  find  you  a  home,  to  make 
your  future  life  comfortable  and  happy." 

She  made  no  reply,  by  word  or  sign. 

1 '  I  believe  you  said  you  had  started  to  return  to 
your  relatives  in  Pennsylvania?  "  he  remarked. 

She  slightly  inclined  her  head. 


374  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"Very  well.  When  we  can  leave  here,  I'll 
find  you  company  and  send  you  thither.  Now  I 
must  be  going.  Don't  think  me  cruel.  I'm  try- 
ing to  be  just  and  merciful." 

A  few  moments  later,  he  was  without  the  tent. 
The  heavens  were  thickly  clouded ;  the  rain  was 
falling  drearily.  A  short  time  he  stood  with  bared 
head,  unmindful  of  the  buzz  of  human  life  around 
him.  Then,  sighing,  he  took  his  way  toward  the 
place  where  Hiram  Bradford  was  confined. 


A 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

DOUGLAS  presented  his  pass  to  the  guard  at  the 
corner  blockhouse.  The  soldier  glanced  at 
it  and  silently  stepped  aside.  Ross  entered 
the  large  unfloored  room  and  looked  about  him. 
The  place  was  damp  and  gloomy  ;  the  pent  air  was 
musty  and  offensive.  A  number  of  whites  and 
Indians  were  sprawling  upon  the  bare  ground.  In 
one  of  the  farther  corners  was  a  solitary  individual. 
Ross  made  his  way  toward  him.  By  the  murky 
light  that  struggled  in  at  the  loopholes  and  crev- 
ices, the  young  man  recognized  Hiram  Bradford. 
At  the  same  instant,  the  older  man  recognized  the 
newcomer  and,  arising  to  his  feet,  held  out  his 
hand,  saying  : 

"  Ross  Douglas,  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  I'm 
overjoyed  to  know  you  escaped  death  in  yesterday's 
battle." 

"  I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  Bradford,"  Ross  re- 
plied ;  "  but  I'm  sorry  to  meet  you  here." 

"  I  understand,"  Bradford  returned  coolly.  "Sit 
down.  I've  something  of  importance  to  tell  you. ' ' 

They  seated  themselves  upon  a  puncheon  bench 
that  stood  against  the  log  wall.  Douglas  noted  the 
marked  change  in  his  companion's  appearance.  The 
older  man's  hair  was  white  as  snow  ;  his  face,  lean 
and  cadaverous ;  his  figure,  emaciated  and  bent. 

(375) 


3;6  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Noticing  Ross's  commiserating  look,  Bradford  re- 
marked : 

"  Yes,  I'm  changed,  Douglas  —  greatly  changed. 
An  incurable  malady  is  rapidly  sapping  my  vitality. 
I've  but  a  short  time  to  live  —  even  if  I  escape 
death  at  the  hands  of  your  commander,  which  I 
don't  expect.  You  saw  General  Harrison  before 
you  came  here  ? ' ' 

"I  did." 

"Did  he  say  what  disposition  would  be  made 
of  me?" 

"He  —  he  said  you  wouldn't  be  exchanged," 
Ross  stammered. 

"It's  unnecessary  to  say  more,"  Bradford  re- 
turned calmly.  ' '  He  intends  to  court-martial  me 
—  to  have  me  shot  as  a  spy  and  deserter.  Well, 
according  to  the  usages  of  war,  I  deserve  the  fate. 
It's  best  that  I  should  die  so.  It's  a  fitting  cli- 
max to  a  misspent  life.  I  have  but  a  short  time  to 
live  at  best  —  a  few  days  can  make  no  difference. 
And  a  sudden,  painless  death  is  to  be  preferred  to 
one  of  lingering  torture  from  a  slow  disease." 

Then,  seeing  the  pained  look  upon  Douglas's 
face  : 

' '  Tut-tut,  my  boy  !  Don't  grieve  over  my  fate. 
I  tell  you  it  is  best  that  I  should  die  so.  But  I  don't 
care  to  talk  of  it ;  it's  just  a  little  unwelcome  to 
contemplate. ' ' 

Here  he  paused  and  smiled  feebly.  A  lump  rose 
in  Ross's  throat ;  he  could  say  nothing  in  reply. 
Bradford  asked  quickly : 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  377 

"  Where  have  you  been  since  you  escaped  from 
the  village  upon  the  Mississinewa  ?  ' ' 

Douglas  found  his  voice,  and  told  his  companion 
of  his  wanderings  and  adventures.  When  the 
younger  man  had  finally  finished,  the  older  re- 
marked : 

"  It  was  well  that  L,a  Violette  helped  you  to  es- 
cape ;  otherwise,  the  treacherous  Indians  would 
have  killed  you.  When  I  returned  to  the  village 
and  found  you  gone,  I  was  furious  ;  but  La  Violette 
explained  the  situation  to  me  —  and  I  was  satisfied. 
Immediately,  I  took  the  dear  girl  with  me  and  went  to 
Canada.  Then  I  instituted  search  for  you.  I  sent 
a  messenger  to  your  old  home  at  Franklinton ' ' 

' '  Why  were  you  so  anxious  to  find  me,  Brad- 
ford ? ' '  Ross  could  not  refrain  from  asking. 

"  Don't  interrupt  me,"  the  other  cried  irritably. 
"  I  have  much  to  tell  you.  I  mean  to  explain  all, 
but  I  must  do  it  in  my  own  way.  As  I  said,  I 
hunted  for  you  far  and  near  ;  but  I  couldn't  locate 
you.  My  health  was  failing.  I  realized  that  I  was 
affected  with  a  fatal  malady,  and  I  worried  night 
and  day  —  I  feared  I  was  to  die  without  again  see- 
ing you.  Finally  my  business  led  me  to  this  vicin- 
ity. I  came  not  as  a  spy ' '  —  the  color  mantled 
his  pale  cheeks,  and  the  puckered  scar  flamed  scar- 
let—  "but  as  a  British  commissary  to  look  after 
the  needs  of  Tecumseh's  warriors.  Yesterday  I 
was  captured  ;  and  here  I  am  —  doomed  to  an  igno- 
minious death.  But  it  doesn't  matter ;  I've 
found  you  —  I  can  carry  out  my  plans  ere  I  die. ' ' 


378  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

The  husky  voice  was  hardly  audible. 

For  a  few  moments  neither  spoke.  Mastering 
his  emotion,  Bradford  asked  abruptly  : 

' '  Douglas,  would  you  like  to  see  La  Violette  ?  ' ' 

"  Very  much,"  Ross  replied  promptly. 

' '  Do  you  know  where  she  is  ?  " 

' '  At  the  British  encampment  across  the  river. ' ' 

' '  Ah  !  You  do  know.  Did  you  see  her  there  — 
did  you  meet  her  ?  ' ' 

' '  No  ;  but  I  heard  of  her  presence  there,  through 
another." 

"  Ross  Douglas,  do  you  love  La  Violette  ?  " 

Anger  blazed  in  the  young  man's  handsome 
countenance,  and  he  replied  hotly  : 

"What  is  it  to  you,  Hiram  Bradford,  whom  I 
love  ?  " 

"  Much  more  than  you  suspect,  my  boy,"  was  the 
cool  rejoinder.  "Answer  my  question,  please.  Do 
you  love  La  Violette  ? ' ' 

Douglas  shut  his  fists  and  set  his  teeth.  For  a 
full  minute,  he  sat  and  glared  at  his  audacious  ques- 
tioner. But  Bradford  did  not  quail.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  smiled  and  said  with  provoking  coolness  : 

"  I  must  have  a  positive  answer  from  you.  Do 
you,  or  do  you  not,  love  La  Violette?  " 

"Yes,  I  —  love  —  her,"  replied  Ross  through  his 
shut  teeth. 

"  You  don't  know  how  happy  I  am  to  hear  you 
say  that!  "  the  older  man  exclaimed  joyfully.  "She 
loves  you,  my  lad  —  you  know  that,  as  well  as  I. 
Will  you  marry  her  ?  " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  379 

"  You  are  carrying  this  thing  too  far,  Bradford," 
Douglas  cried.  "Why  do  you  meddle  in  my  affairs 
—  why  have  you  done  so  in  the  past  ? ' ' 

"You  want  to  know?"  Bradford  replied, 
his  scarred  countenance  suddenly  losing  its  expres- 
sion of  mocking  carelessness,  and  becoming  grave. 

' '  I  want  to  know, ' '  was  the  decided  answer. 

"  Then  prepare  yourself  for  a  disagreeable  sur- 
prise," Bradford  said  in  a  husky  whisper. 

"I'm  ready  for  anything,"  Ross  replied.  "Go 
on." 

' '  Ross  Douglas,  / —  am  — your  — father  !  ' ' 

With  a  hoarse  cry  —  half-groan  —  the  young  man 
arose  and  staggered  against  the  rough  wall.  His 
face  was  colorless ;  his  limbs  were  shaking ;  and 
he  threatened  to  sink  to  the  ground. 

Bradford  quickly  got  upon  his  feet  and,  grasping 
his  companion  by  the  shoulders,  forced  him  to 
resume  his  seat,  saying  in  bitter  accents  : 

' '  Don't  let  the  disagreeable  truth  unman  you. 
Sit  down.  I  shall  not  disgrace  you  long  with  my 
presence  on  earth." 

Ross  sank  upon  the  rude  bench,  murmuring 
brokenly : 

"  You,  my  father  !  Hiram  Bradford,  the  spy  — 
the  deserter — the  British  tool,  my  father!  Oh, 
God!" 

Then  both  were  silent.  Douglas  bowed  his  head 
upon  his  hands.  Bradford  leaned  back  against  the 
wall  and  panted.  His  face  was  deathlike.  The 
red  scar  upon  his  cheek  was  purplish.  But  he  kept 


380  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

his  keen  eyes  immovably  fixed  upon  the  bowed 
form  at  his  side. 

At  last  Ross  slowly  lifted  his  head  ;  and,  extend- 
ing his  hand  toward  his  companion,  whispered 
hoarsely : 

"Forgive  my  hasty  words.  The  —  the  surprise 
—  the  shock  was  almost  more  than  I  could  bear! 
For  the  moment  I  was  dumbfounded  —  crazed. ' ' 

The  older  man  eagerly  grasped  the  proffered 
hand  and  replied  in  agitated  tones  : 

"  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  my  son.  Would  to 
God  you  could  say  as  much  !  " 

"  You  —  are  —  my  —  father!  "  Ross  muttered 
mechanically. 

"  I  am  John  Douglas,  your  father,"  was  the  con- 
vincing reply. 

Each  had  partially  regained  control  of  his  feel- 
ings. Now  the  son  said  softly : 

"Tell  me  all  —  all!" 

There  was  intense  bitterness  in  the  father's  voice, 
as  he  answered  : 

"  Yes,  my  boy,  now  I'll  tell  you  everything. 
The  whole  truth  can't  make  you  despise  me  more 
than  you  do  already  —  than  I  despise  myself.  Are 
you  ready  to  listen  patiently?  " 

Ross  nodded  ;  and  his  father  proceeded  : 

' '  My  real  name  is  John  Douglas  ;  though  for 
years  I  have  borne  the  alias  —  Hiram  Bradford.  I 
cruelly  deserted  your  mother  when  you  were  an 
infant.  We  loved  each  other,  but  we  couldn't 
agree.  The  fault  was  all  my  own.  Your  mother 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  381 

was  a  sweet-tempered  angel ;  I  was  a  hot-headed 
brute.  In  those  days  I  drank  heavily.  I  was  un- 
reasonable —  abusive  ;  but  she  meekly  bore  with 
me.  Her  meekness  only  angered  me.  It  mad- 
dened me  to  meet  her  reproachful  looks.  At  last  I 
could  stand  it  no  longer.  Like  the  base  knave  that 
I  was,  I  deserted  her  and  you.  I  must  have  been 
possessed  of  a  devil  —  I  can't  explain  my  actions 
otherwise.  And  the  same  devil  has  dogged  my 
footsteps  through  all  the  years." 

He  paused  and  drew  a  sighing  respiration,  ere  he 
continued : 

"  But  let  me  hasten.  What  use  to  dwell  upon 
my  past  mistakes  and  misdeeds  ?  I  went  to  Can- 
ada and  entered  the  service  of  the  English  govern- 
ment, as  an  Indian  agent.  I  partially  reformed  — 
I  made  money  in  abundance.  But  I  was  unhappy  ; 
I  wanted  to  return  to  your  mother — to  see  you. 
At  last  I  could  endure  the  torture  no  longer.  I  set 
out  upon  my  return  journey.  All  the  weary  way,  I 
pictured  to  myself  how  I  should  take  your  mother 
and  yourself  in  my  arms  and  beg  your  forgiveness; 
but  fate  cheated  me.  I  was  doomed  to  such  black 
and  bitter  disappointment  —  to  such  poignant  sor- 
row as"  —  his  voice  faltered — "a  remorseful 
conscience  alone  can  know.  I  reached  the  old 
home.  Your  mother  was  dead  ;  you  were  gone. 
The  neighbors  informed  me  that  your  uncle  had 
taken  you  away  —  they  knew  not  whither. " 

Again  he  paused,  as  though  expecting  his  listener 
to  make  some  remark.  But  Ross's  countenance 


382  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

remained  stern  and  impassive.  The  father  cleared 
his  throat  and  went  on  : 

"  I  returned  to  Canada  and  resumed  work  for  the 
British  government.  The  demon  of  perversity  still 
followed  me.  I  deserted  the  flag  of  my  native  land, 
as  I  had  deserted  my  wife  and  child.  I  became  the 
Englishman's  spy  —  his  tool  —  his  dog.  But  I  didn't 
forget  you,  my  son.  My  business  led  me  among 
the  Indians.  From  one  end  of  the  Northwest  Ter- 
ritory to  the  other,  I  searched  for  you ;  but  I  could 
gain  no  tidings  of  you.  I  thought  you  dead,  and 
gave  up  the  fruitless  quest.  You  know  how  I  met 
you  at  last  and  learned  your  .name.  It's  unneces- 
sary to  say  more." 

' '  And  L,a  Violette  ?  ' '  Ross  suggested. 

"You  wish  to  know  her  history ?  " 

The  son  inclined  his  head. 

"  About  seventeen  years  ago,"  John  Douglas 
resumed,  ' '  I  was  stationed  at  Quebec.  While  there 
I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  wealthy  Englishman, 
Charles  Brownlee,  in  this  manner  :  He  had  a 
beautiful  wife,  and  a  little  daughter  one  year  old. 
One  day  the  family  was  out  driving,  and  their 
horses  became  frightened  and  got  beyond  their 
driver's  control.  I  caught  the  maddened  animals, 
and,  at  the  risk  of  my  own  life,  brought  them  to  a 
stop,  receiving  this  wound  for  my  temerity ' '  — 
pointing  to  the  puckered  scar  upon  his  cheek.  — 
"  Charles  Brownlee  became  my  fast  friend.  I 
visited  at  his  house.  I  learned  to  love  and  respect 
the  parents  and  to  worship  the  angelic  child.  Also, 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  383 

I  learned  much  of  their  family  history.  Charles 
Brownlee  had  inherited  his  wealth  from  his  grand- 
father. A  cousin,  who  felt  that  he  had  been 
wronged  out  of  his  rightful  share  of  the  estate,  came 
to  Quebec  to  demand  restitution.  My  friend  refused 
to  listen  to  the  claimant's  demands ;  and  the  dis- 
appointed and  angry  man  left  the  house,  vowing 
vengeance.  A  week  later,  Charles  Brownlee  and 
his  beautiful  wife  died  very  suddenly.  The  murder- 
ous cousin  had  hired  an  unscrupulous  domestic  to 
poison  them.  This  was  never  proven,  but  I  know 
whereof  I  speak  —  for  I  have  some  knowledge  of 
drugs,  and  I  was  in  the  house  at  the  time." 

The  speaker  stopped  and  wearily  shifted  his 
position. 

"Go  on  —  father,"  Ross  whispered,  his  face 
alight  with  interest. 

The  son  hesitated  at  the  paternal  term,  but  reso- 
lutely used  it.  The  father's  drawn  features  relaxed 
into  a  happy  smile,  as  he  took  up  the  thread  of  his 
narrative. 

"After  the  death  of  her  parents,"  he  continued, 
"  I  stole  away  Charles  Brownlee' s  little  daughter, 
and  hid  her  among  the  Shawnees.  Her  life  alone 
stood  between  the  unprincipled  relative  and  the 
estate  he  coveted  ;  and  I  felt  that  it  was  necessary 
to  hide  her  from  him.  Tenskwatawa  adopted  her. 
The  tribe  believed  — and  yet  believes  —  her  a  gift 
from  the  Great  Spirit.  The  Prophet  has  loved  her 
—  has  been  kind  to  her.  But  when  I  sought  to 
take  her  from  him,  to  send  her  to  school,  he  was 


384  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

exceedingly  angry  and  threatened  to  have  me  killed. 
However,  my  will  was  the  stronger.  I  had  my  way, 
and  sent  her  to  a  mission  school  in  Quebec.  There 
she  remained  —  securely  hidden  from  the  prying 
eyes  of  her  relative's  agents  —  for  five  or  six  years. 
At  the  end  of  the  time,  I  restored  her  to  the  care  of 
the  Shawnees.  There  you  met  her.  She  learned 
to  love  you  ;  you  fell  in  love  with  her " 

"  Have  you  told  La  Violette  her  life's  history?  " 
Ross  interrupted. 

' '  Call  her  Violet  Brownlee  —  that's  her  English 
name,"  the  father  answered.  "Yes,  I  have  told 
her  all." 

' '  Why  —  why  do  you  wish  me  to  marry  her  ?  ' ' 
the  son  inquired  hesitatingly. 

"  For  this  reason:  You  are  my  son  ;  and  I  love 
you.  I  love  her  as  a  daughter.  Ever  since  I  met 
you  at  the  Prophet's  Town,  I  have  felt  you  should 
marry  her.  She  loves  you  —  she  needs  your  pro- 
tection. The  murderer  of  her  parents  still  lives. 
He  is  in  undisputed  ownership  of  the  property.  But 
he  knows  that  she  isn't  dead  ;  and  is  anxiously 
awaiting  for  her  to  put  in  an  appearance  and  lay 
claim  to  the  estate  —  that  he  may  dispose  of  her 
forever.  I  have  in  my  possession  documents  that 
establish  her  identity  and  her  title  to  her  father's 
wealth " 

' '  Isn't  it  for  the  sake  of  this  same  wealth  that 
you  wish  me  to  marry  Violet  Brownlee,  Hiram 
Brad  —  father?"  Ross  asked  haltingly,  his  face 
flushing. 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET          385 

"  Not  at  all,"  John  Douglas  replied  in  a  tone  of 
deep  sincerity.  ' '  I  have  property  and  money  — 
I'm  wealthy.  All  I  have  is  yours.  I've 
never  enjoyed  my  riches  —  now  it's  too  late. 
In  giving  all  to  you,  let  me  fondly  imagine 
that  I'm  making  some  slight  atonement  for 
what  I've  made  you  and  your  mother  suffer. 
You'll  find  my  deeds,  mortgages,  and  other 
private  papers  —  including  those  pertaining  to  Violet 
and  her  inheritance  —  in  this  leathern  packet.  I've 
carried  it  with  me  for  months,  hoping  to  meet  you 
and  give  it  to  you." 

With  these  words,  the  father  drew  from  a  pocket 
within  his  hunting-shirt  a  large  leather  wallet,  and 
extended  it  toward  his  son. 

Silently  Ross  took  the  pocketbook  and  thrust  it 
into  his  bosom. 

"You'll  carry  out  my  wishes,"  the  older  man 
remarked  quietly. 

"  If  you  don't  live  to  carry  them  out  yourself, 
father,"  Ross  replied  with  feeling,  "  I  will  see 
that  Miss  Brownlee  gains  possession  of  her 
own " 

"  Please  say  that  you'll  marry  Violet,  my 
son,"  the  father  said  pleadingly. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  younger  man  was  silent  — 
wrapped  in  deep  thought.  Then  he  answered 
slowly  and  solemnly : 

"  If  I  find   everything  as  you  have  stated  —  and 
she'll    consent    to   become    my    wife  —  I'll    marry 
her." 
25 


386  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  Thank  you  —  thank  you  ! ' '  John  Douglas  mur- 
mured huskily. 

Then  after  a  momentary  pause  : 

' '  Now,  let  me  tell  you  what  you  must  do  first. 
Under  the  protection  of  a  flag  of  truce,  you  must  go 
to  the  British  camp  and  bring  Violet  here.  Tell 
her  I'm  a  prisoner  and  wish  to  see  her  —  but  don't 
let  her  know  that  I'm  to  die  an  ignominious 
death " 

His  voice  failed  him.  And  covering  his  face,  he 
wept  silently. 

"  Don't  despair — don't  give  way  to  grief," 
Ross  said  kindly,  at  the  same  time  arising  and  lay- 
ing his  hand  upon  his  father's  shoulder.  "I'll 
intercede  for  you  —  I'll  do  all  in  my  power  to 
save  you." 

John  Douglas,  lifting  his  tear- wet  face,  whispered 
tremulously : 

"  You — you  say  you'll  try  to  save  me?" 

"  I  will,"  Ross  answered  firmly. 

"Then  —  then  you  don't  hate  me  —  despise 
me?  " 

The  son's  voice  was  thick  with  emotion,  as  he 
replied  : 

"  No,  father,  I  don't  hate  you  ;  neither  do  I  love 
you.  But  I  pity  you  —  and  will  use  what  little  in- 
fluence I  have,  in  your  behalf.  I  freely  forgive  you 
all  the  wrong  you  have  done  me  ;  but  I  can't  for- 
get that  you  were  cruel  to  my  mother — that  you 
have  been  a  traitor  to  your  country.  Still  you've 
been  kind  tome  in  many  ways — you've  had  my 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  387 

welfare  at  heart.  And  I've  learned  to  like  you. 
In  time,  perhaps " 

"Say  no  more!"  the  father  cried,  dashing  the 
tears  from  his  eyes.  "  I'm  more  than  satisfied. 
You  don't  know  how  you  have  sweetened  the  bit- 
ter draught  that  I  must  drink.  Oh,  Ross —  my  son  ! 
If  only  I  could  live  my  life  over " 

Again  he  broke  down.  Ross  felt  the  hot  tears 
upon  his  own  cheeks.  Presently  the  father  regained 
control  of  his  emotions,  and,  rising,  said  calmly  : 

"You  spoke  of  interceding  in  my  behalf.  To 
whom  will  you  go  ?  " 

"To  General  Harrison." 

"Don't  go.     It  will  avail  nothing." 

"I'll  make  the  trial,"  was  the  decided  reply. 
"  This  evening  I'll  see  you  again.  Keep  in  good 
heart  until  I  return.  Good-by —  father." 

Silently  they  shook  hands  and  parted. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

rain  still  fell ;  the  wind  still  blew  in  fitful 
gusts.  The  canvas  walls  of  the  officers'  tents 
swelled  in  and  out,  and  cracked  and  popped 
boisterously.  In  the  shelter  of  the  traverses,  sol- 
diers huddled  together  and  smoked  in  silence.  The 
parade  ground  was  deserted  ;  and  the  sodden  and 
trampled  earth,  the  dripping  flags  clinging  closely 
to  their  staffs,  and  the  cloaked  figures  of  the  sen- 
tries stubbornly  pacing  their  beats,  gave  to  the  in- 
terior of  the  American  fortification  a  gloomy  and 
depressing  aspect. 

Ross  Douglas  left  the  blockhouse,  where  he  had 
found  the  father  he  had  never  known,  and  at  a  rapid 
pace  walked  toward  General  Harrison's  quarters. 
The  young  man's  countenance  reflected  his  contend- 
ing emotions  —  the  varied  and  exciting  experiences 
through  which  he  had  gone.  He  was  glad  he  had 
learned  I,a  Violette's  history  —  but  sorry  he  had 
heard  of  his  father's  misspent  life  ;  he  rejoiced  at  the 
thought  that  the  sweet  girl  loved  him,  that  he  loved 
her,  that  she  was  to  be  his  wife  —  yet  he  grieved 
over  his  father's  impending  fate.  Then,  also,  he 
sincerely  pitied  Amy  Hilliard,  and  worried  that  I^a 
Violette  was  still  among  the  British  and  Indians. 
Indeed,  his  heart  was  torn  and  bleeding! 

On  reaching  the  commander's  tent,  he  pushed 
(388) 


THE   SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  389 

past  the  orderlies  at  the  door  and  stood  in  the  Gen- 
eral's  presence.  He  was  preoccupied  and  did  not 
stop  for  ceremony,  but  said  abruptly  : 

"General,  I  have  seen  Hiram  Bradford,  and  have 
returned,  as  you  ordered. ' ' 

Harrison  was  closely  studying  a  map  that  lay 
spread  out  upon  a  rough  table  before  him.  Without 
looking  up,  he  made  reply  : 

"And  you  found  him  much  changed?" 

"  In  many  ways,  General." 

The  commander  lifted  his  head  and  answered 
sharply  : 

"  I  noted  no  change  in  the  scoundrel,  except  in 
his  appearance.  His  health  is  broken  ;  but  he  is  the 
same  cool,  unscrupulous,  defiant  knave." 

Ross  winced,  but  sturdily  returned  : 

"We  didn't  observe  alike,  General  Harrison.  I 
found  him  in  ill-health,  weak,  repentant " 

The  hero  of  Tippecanoe  whirled  about  upon  his 
stool.  His  rugged  face  darkened  ominously.  A 
storm  was  brewing. 

"  My  young  friend,"  he  interrupted  in  hard,  cold 
tones,  "  you  talk  as  if  you  came  to  plead  his  case." 

' '  I  came  to  intercede  in  his  behalf, ' '  Ross  replied 
calmly. 

General  Harrison  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face  black 
with  rage. 

"  By  heavens  !  "  he  cried.     "You  are " 

Then  the  grizzled  warrior  stopped  suddenly.  He 
bit  his  thin  lips  —  and  was  silent.  At  last  he  said 
quietly,  but  firmly  : 


390  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"What  I  would  say,  young  man,  is  this  :  It's 
useless  to  ask  me  to  show  clemency  to  Hiram  Brad- 
ford— the  spy,  the  deserter.  I  can't  blame  you 
—  I  don't  blame  you  —  for  feeling  sorry  for  him. 
He  has  befriended  you  —  in  a  way,  perhaps.  But 
you're  an  American — -you  love  your  country.  And 
you  mustn't  forget  that  this  man  is  your  country's 
bitter  and  avowed  enemy.  That's  not  all.  During 
the  Tippecanoe  campaign,  he  entered  my  service  as  a 
scout  —  he  enlisted  regularly.  At  that  time,  he  was 
in  the  employ  of  the  English  —  was  their  spy.  He 
plotted  against  my  life  —  he  deserted.  I  needn't 
tell  you  all  this  ;  you  know  it  only  too  well.  You 
were  the  first  to  arouse  my  suspicions.  You  put  me 
on  my  guard  —  and  saved  my  life.  After  your  es- 
cape from  the  savages  —  at  Franklinton,  you 
remember — you  told  me  that  Hiram  Bradford  had 
confessed  all  to  you.  As  a  spy,  I  should  let 
him  go;  for  his  scheme  failed  —  and  his  attempt  upon 
my  life  was  in  another  war.  But  a  deserter  once  is 
a  deserter  forever  ;  "  —  fiercely  —  ' '  and  the  penalty 
is  death  !  To-morrow  a  preliminary  court-martial 
will  be  held ;  and  you  will  appear  as  a  witness 
against  Hiram  Bradford." 

Douglas  dropped  upon  a  stool,  moaning  : 

"  I  can't !     Oh,  God  !—  I  can't!  " 

His  keen,  mental  agony  was  shown  in  his  face. 
General  Harrison  was  surprised.  Advancing,  he 
laid  a  hand  upon  the  young  man's  shoulder  and  said 
kindly  : 

"  You  mustn't  take  the  matter  so  to  heart,  my 


THE  SIGN  OF    THE  PROPHET  391 

boy.  Hiram  Bradford  deserves  to  die.  He  shall 
have  full  justice  ;  but  no  mercy  will  be  shown  him, 
if  proven  guilty.  I  cannot  fathom  why  you  —  a 
pure-minded  patriot  —  are  so  anxious  to  have  a 
traitorous  deserter  escape  merited  punishment." 

"  L,et  me  tell  you,  General  Harrison,"  Ross  cried, 
springing  to  his  feet.  ' '  Then  do  as  you  will.  Hiram 
Bradford,  the  English  spy  —  the  American  deserter, 
is  John  Douglas  —  my  father  !  " 

Had  a  British  shell  exploded  within  the  tent, 
General  Harrison  could  not  have  been  more  dumb- 
founded. He  tried  to  speak,  but  failed.  After 
staring  blankly  at  his  companion  for  some  time,  he 
commenced  to  pace  rapidly  up  and  down  the  room, 
clasping  and  unclasping  his  brown  hands,  in  an 
agitated  manner.  At  last  he  stopped  in  front  of 
Ross,  and  said  calmly  : 

"  Sit  down  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

A  number  of  officers  entered  the  tent,  before  the 
tale  was  concluded.  The  commander  paused  long 
enough  to  say  :  — ' '  Be  seated,  gentlemen  ;  I  shall 
be  through  presently." — And  again  he  gave  Douglas 
his  attention.  At  last  the  two  arose.  Taking 
Ross's  hand,  the  commander  murmured  : 

' '  Circumstances  change  the  aspect  of  many  plain 
cases.  Your  father  shall  not  be  tried  for  his  crime  ; 
he  shall  go  free.  But  the  matter  must  forever  remain 
a  secret  between  ourselves  —  even  your  trusty  com- 
rades mustn't  know.  This  afternoon  an  officer 
and  escort  will  bear  a  flag  of  truce  to  the  British 
camp,  to  complete  arrangements  for  an  exchange  of 


392  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

prisoners.  You  will  take  your  father  and  accom- 
pany them.  Bring  the  young  woman  back  with  you  ; 
but  leave  your  father  there,  with  the  injunction  that 
he  is  to  make  his  way  to  Canada  and  never  set  foot 
upon  American  soil  again.  Wait  a  moment  — 
I'll  give  you  an  order  for  his  release." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  after,  father  and  son  issued 
from  the  blockhouse  together — and  John  Douglas 
was  a  free  man.  In  the  full  light  of  the  murky  day, 
he  looked  bent,  worn,  and  feeble  ;  and  he  kept  close 
to  his  stalwart  son's  side,  as  though  looking  to  him 
for  guidance  and  protection. 

Shortly  after  noon,  the  two  joined  the  officer  and 
escort,  who  were  setting  out  for  the  British  encamp- 
ment. On  their  way  toward  the  eastern  gate  of  the 
fortification,  they  were  joined  by  Farley,  Bright 
Wing,  and  the  hound. 

"Where've  you  been  all  the  forenoon,  Ross?" 
the  old  woodman  demanded  in  an  injured  tone. 
"Me  an'  the  Injin  an'  dog's  been  huntin'  you 
all  over  the  place.  Duke  nosed  'round,  an'  said  you 
was  down  at  that  blockhouse" — pointing  with  the 
barrel  of  his  gun. —  "  But  me  an'  the  Injin  knowed 
that  couldn't  be,  'cause  ther's  pris'ners  in  there  — 
an'  you  wouldn't  have  no  business  with  them.  Then 
the  houn'  took  up  a  'maginary  trail,  and  tracked 
you  to  Ol'  Tippecanoe's  tent.  We  knowed  that  was 
a  lie,  too ;  'cause  we  peeked  in,  an'  you  wasn't 
there.  So  we've  kind  o'  lost  faith  in  the  purp. 
The  smell  o'  blood,  yisterday,  must  'ave  spiled  his 
scent.  But  where' ve  you  been  ?" 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  393 

Scarcely  slacking  his  pace,  Douglas  replied  briefly: 
"  I  was  at  the  blockhouse  and  at  General  Harri- 
son's quarters.  Duke  told  you  the  truth." 

"  You  was  !  "  Joe  ejaculated.  "  Well,  dang  my 
skin  if  the  dog  didn't  know  more'n  a  couple  o'  hu- 
man critters  —  he  did,  by  Tabithy  !  Purp,  I  beg 
y'r  pardon.  But  where 're  you  goin'  now,  Ross?" 

"To  the  English  camp. " 

"I've  heerd  it  said,"  Farley  grumbled,  "that 
the  burnt  child  dreaded  the  fire  ;  but  you  seem  to 
be  an  'xception  to  the  rule.  Ross  Douglas,  what  in 
the  name  o'  goodness  're  you  goin'  over  there  fer? 
Oh,  I'm  an  ol'  fool  !  I  might  'aveknowed.  You're 
goin'  over  to  git  that  little  red-headed  gal,  of  course 


He  suddenly  stopped  speaking.  His  watery  eyes 
bulged  ;  his  jaw  dropped.  He  had  caught  a  square 
look  at  Ross's  companion. 

"  Wy.dang — it — all — to — dingnation  !  "he mum- 
bled. "  If  that  ain't  the  scar-faced  scout  that  was 
with  Gener'l  Harrison,  at  Tippecanoe,  it's  his  ghost. 
An'  he  looks  more  like  a  ghost  'n  a  mortal  man  — ^ 
he  does,  by  cracky  !  " 

"Ugh!  Scar  Face  —  much  sick,  sight  lean," 
Bright  Wing  grunted. 

Ross  made  no  reply  ;  John  Douglas  did  not  glance 
around,  even.  By  this  time,  the  squad  of  soldiers 
had  reached  the  gate  and  were  passing  through. 
Father  and  son  hastened  to  overtake  them.  Farley 
and  his  companion  kept  close  upon  the  heels  of  those 
in  advance  :  and  with  them  left  the  fortification. 


394  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Ross  thought  his  comrades  had  stopped  within  the 
walls  • — and  felt  relieved.  He  did  not  notice  their 
presence,  until  he  stood  at  the  water's  edge. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Joe  ?  "  he  demanded 
sharply. 

"  We're  goin'  with  you,"  Farley  returned  coolly. 

"  You  cannot,"  Ross  said  firmly.  "  Take  the  dog 
and  return  to  the  fort." 

But  Joe  and  the  Wyandot  stubbornly  shook  their 
heads ;  and  Duke,  dropping  upon  his  haunches, 
looked  appealingly  into  his  master's  face. 

"Take  Duke  and  go  back  to  the  fortification," 
Ross  repeated,  with  difficulty  repressing  a  smile  at 
the  childlike  pertinacity  of  his  friends. 

"  We  ain't  a-goin'  back,"  Farley  answered  sul- 
lenly. 

"  Ugh  !  No  go  back  — go  with  Fleet  Foot,"  the 
Indian  muttered. 

"  Why  ?  "  the  young  man  asked  impatiently. 

"You  may  need  us,"  Farley  explained.  "We 
don't  over  an'  above  like  the  company  you're 
keepin'." — With  a  jerk  of  his  thumb  toward  John 
Douglas. 

Ross  dropped  his  eyes  to  the  ground.  His  face 
flushed  hotly.  He  was  in  a  quandary  ;  he  did  not 
know  what  to  do  or  say. 

The  soldiers  had  launched  a  boat,  and  were 
scrambling  into  it. 

"  Come  on  —  don't  delay  us,"  the  officer  called. 

4 '  Here  are  two  of  my  comrades  who  desire  to  ac- 
company me,"  Ross  hastened  to  explain. 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  395 

The  officer  cut  him  short  with  : 

"Bring  them  along  —  but  be  quick  about  it. 
The  boat  will  accommodate  us  all." 

A  few  minutes  later,  the  entire  party  had 
landed  on  the  opposite  shore  and  were  making  their 
way  toward  the  British  encampment.  There  the 
American  officer  engaged  in  a  consultation  with 
General  Proctor  and  his  staff,  while  Ross  Douglas 
and  his  companions  went  to  the  quarters  of  Tensk- 
watawa  and  L,a  Violette,  at  Fort  Miami. 

John  Douglas  led  the  way  into  the  stockade  of 
the  old  fort.  The  place  was  filled  with  Indians  and 
white  prisoners.  Some  of  the  latter  were  ill-fated 
settlers  ;  others  were  the  luckless  Kentuckians  of 
General  Clay's  command.  Several  of  the  militia- 
men knew  Ross  Douglas  and,  calling  to  him,  asked 
what  were  the  prospects  of  a  speedy  exchange.  He 
answered  their  questions  briefly  as  he  hurried  along. 
Occasionally  a  guttural  voice  exclaimed — "Fleet 
Foot  !  ";  and  the  young  man  became  aware  that  many 
of  the  savages  recognized  him  and  were  scowling  at 
him.  But  they  did  not  offer  to  impede  the  progress 
of  the  small  party.  Scar  Face,  whom  they  hated 
and  feared,  was  leading  it. 

On  reaching  the  farther  side  of  the  inclosure, 
John  Douglas  stopped  and  whispered  to  his  son  : 

"Here's  the  cabin  Violet  occupies.  You'll 
enter  with  me  ;  your  friends  will  remain  outside  — 
on  guard.  The  Indians  are  dissatisfied  —  restless 
—  and  ready  for  any  desperate  venture.  I  don't 
think  they'll  dare  to  interfere  with  us  in  any  way 


396  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

—  but  they  may.  Caution  your  comrades  to  be  dis- 
creet —  to  give  no  heed  to  threatening  words  and 
gestures,  unless  the  savages  offer  to  attack  them." 

Ross,  turning  to  Farley,  said  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  You  and  Bright  Wing  will  keep  Duke  with  you 
and  guard  the  door.  Do  nothing  rash  —  you  un- 
derstand ? ' ' 

Joe  nodded  gravely  ;  and  Ross  continued  : 

' '  We'll  transact  our  business  and  get  out  of 
here,  as  soon  as  possible  ;  the  place  is  unsafe.  Be 
careful  of  your  words  and  actions,  and  restrain  the 
hound." 

Again  Joe  nodded.  For  a  wonder,  he  did  not  ut- 
ter a  word  in  reply. 

Just  as  father  and  son  were  about  to  enter  the 
low  door  of  the  hut,  the  latter  caught  sight  of  a 
burly,  thick-set  Indian  swaggering  up  to  the  spot. 
His  fat  and  flabby  features  were  grotesquely  and 
hideously  painted.  He  wore  a  complete  suit  of 
coarse  cloth,  and  carried  an  English  rifle.  Nearing 
the  group  at  the  door,  he  stuck  his  tongue  into  his 
cheek  and  leered  impudently. 

Ross  started.  There  was  something  about  the 
obese  brave  that  seemed  familiar  \  yet  the  young 
man  could  not  recall  that  he  had  ever  seen  the 
bloated  wretch. 

"  Who  is  the  greasy  knave  ?  "  Ross  murmured  to 
himself. 

Farley  caught  the  words   and  muttered  in  reply  : 

"  I  don't  know  — but  I've  seen  him  somewheres. 
He's  as  sassy  as  a  pet  fox — he  is,  by  Jerushy  !  " 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  397 

"  Ugh  !  "  Bright  Wing  ejaculated  explosively  — 
and  was  silent  as  a  graven  image. 

"Come,"  John  Douglas  said,  plucking  his  son 
by  the  arm.  "  Things  are  not  to  my  liking.  You 
must  take  Violet  and  be  off." 

Together  the  two  passed  into  the  cabin.  The 
place  was  in  semi-darkness.  Ross  heard  a  startled 
exclamation  in  the  far  corner  of  the  room.  Then 
he  became  aware  that  someone  had  arisen  and  was 
moving  toward  him.  His  eyes  grew  accustomed  to 
the  gloom  ;  and  he  dimly  perceived  a  sylphlike  fig- 
ure advancing  toward  the  center  of  the  floor.  There 
it  stopped.  The  murky  light  streaming  in  at  the 
hole  in  the  roof  fell  upon  it. 

Ross  Douglas  distinctly  saw  a  halo  of  red-gold 
hair,  the  outlines  of  a  fair,  sweet  face  —  and  mur- 
mured tenderly  : 

"  La  Violette  !  " 

"  Fleet  Foot !  "  was  the  joyful  exclamation. 

She  stood  leaning  far  forward,  her  hands  clasped 
in  front  of  her ;  but  she  did  not  offer  to  move 
nearer  to  him.  Ross  swept  a  hurried  glance  about 
the  interior.  He  was  alone  with  her ;  his  father  had 
left  the  cabin.  The  young  man  heard  her  quick 
respirations  —  saw  her  attitude  of  indecision  —  and 
opening  his  arms,  he  called  softly  : 

"  I  love  you,  darling!  Come  to  me  !" 

With  a  glad  cry,  she  flew  to  him  and  nestled  in 
his  arms.  He  strained  her  to  his  breast  —  too  happy 
to  speak.  At  last  he  breathed  into  her  ear  the 
needless  question : 


398  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  Do  you  love  me,  La  Violette?  " 

Lifting  her  golden  head  and  reproachfully  fasten- 
ing her  violet  eyes  upon  his  face,  she  answered  : 

' '  Can  you  ask  me  such  a  question,  Ross  Douglas  ? 
You  know  I  love  you  —  have  loved  you  ever  since 
you  saved  my  life.  But  do  you  really  love  me  ?  ' ' 

In  answer  he  kissed  her  ripe  lips  and  murmured  : 

"  I  worship  you,  dear  —  love  you  better  than  I 
love  anyone  else  on  earth.  I've  loved  you  ever 
since  I  first  met  you.  But  I  was  betrothed  to  an- 
other ;  and  I  wouldn't  admit  to  myself,  even,  that 
I  loved  you.  But  to-day  I  am  free.  I  have  come 
to  take  you  from  this  place — from  this  life.  Will 
you  go  with  me,  La  Violette  ?  " 

"  To  the  ends  of  the  earth,  "  she  whispered. 

Holding  her  from  him  at  arm's  length,  he  asked 
playfully  : 

"  Violet  Brownlee,  will  you  be  my  wife?  " 

"  Ah  !  you  know  all,"  she  returned  smilingly. 

"  I  know  all,"  he  returned  soberly.  "  My  father 
has  told  me." 

"  Your  father?  "  she  remarked  wonderingly. 

"Yes,  my  father  —  Scar  Face,  Hiram  Bradford, 
John  Douglas." 

Again  she  nestled  in  his  arms,  and  for  a  moment 
was  silent.  Presently  she  murmured  musingly  : 

' '  I  used  often  to  wonder  why  Hiram  Bradford 
took  so  great  an  interest  in  me.  A  few  months  ago 
he  told  me  my  history.  Then  I  fell  to  wondering 
why  he  had  kept  you  a  prisoner  against  your  will, 
yet  was  anxious  for  your  welfare.  Nor  eould  I  un- 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  399 

derstand  why  he  was  so  worried  over  your  escape 
and  the  fact  that  he  could  not  find  you.  Now  all 
is  plain." 

He  stroked  her  red-gold  hair,  but  made  no  reply. 
He  would  have  been  content  to  hold  her  thus  for 
hours.  Suddenly  she  lifted  her  head  from  his 
shoulder,  and  whispered  : 

"Ross." 

."Well,  darling?" 

"  I^et  me  see  your  hand.  No,  the  other.  Ah  ! 
you  still  wear  Tenskwatawa's  ring.  You  carried 
off  the  Sign  of  the  Prophet ;  now  you  come  to  carry 
off  his  daughter." 

He  bent  his  head  and  breathed  in  reply : 

"  I  valued  the  Sign  of  the  Prophet ;  it  assured 
my  safety.  I  value  his  daughter  much  more  ;  she 
assures  my  happiness." 

Standing  upon  tiptoe  and  pulling  him  down,  she 
fondly  kissed  him  and  answered  : 

"  This  is  a  fit  reward  for  your  pretty  speech.  But 
Tenskwatawa  will  be  here  presently  ;  your  father 
has  gone  for  him.  Do  not  let  him  see  the  ring.  He 
has  lost  much  of  his  power ;  and  it  is  better  so.  He 
and  Tecumseh  have  deceived  their  people  and  led 
them  astray.  I  see  it  all  now.  The  wisest  of  them 
are  but  ignorant  savages.  And  the  English  —  my 
own  people  —  have  made  tools  of  them " 

She  stopped  speaking  and  hastily  withdrew  from 
her  lover's  embrace.  He  turned  to  discover  the 
cause  of  her  action,  and  observed  Tenskwatawa  en- 
tering the  door. 


400  THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET 

Not  deigning  to  notice  the  young  man,  the 
Prophet  walked  up  to  L,a  Violette  and,  laying  his 
hands  upon  her  shoulders,  murmured  gutturally  : 

' '  My  daughter,  Scar  Face  has  told  me  that  you 
mean  to  leave  the  tribe — your  father,  forever.  Is 
it  so?" 

"  Tenskwatawa,  my  father,  it  is  true." 

' '  Has  Fleet  Foot  stolen  your  heart,  my  daughter?  " 

"He  has,  my  father,"  she  replied  in  a  voice 
hardly  audible. 

' '  And  La  Violette  will  accompany  him  to  his 
lodge  and  dwell  there?" 

The  girl  looked  her  interrogator  in  the  face  and 
nodded.  Tenskwatawa  remained  silent.  The  still- 
ness of  the  room  was  oppressive.  At  last  the 
Prophet  removed  his  hands  from  her  shoulders  and, 
bowing  his  head,  muttered  brokenly  : 

"  It  is  well.  Where  her  heart  is,  La  Violette 
should  be.  She  is  a  paleface  maiden  ;  she  loves  a 
paleface  brave.  She  shall  be  the  light  of  his  lodge 

—  as  she   has  been   the  light    of    Tenskwatawa's 
life." 

Then,  extending  his  hand  to  her  : 

' '  My  daughter,  farewell.  The  Great  Spirit  gave 
you  to  me  —  he  takes  you  from  me.  Great  is  my 
sorrow  ;  but  I  will  bear  it  as  becomes  a  Shawnee. 
My  sign  is  lost ;  my  power  has  departed.  My 
children  spurn  my  words  of  advice ;  the  English 
laugh  at  my  undoing.  My  sorrow  is  great.  I  can 
bear  it  —  I  am  a  Shawnee.  My  daughter,  farewell 

—  farewell,  forever  ! ' ' 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  401 

Impulsively  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck 
and  sobbed  upon  his  breast. 

' '  Tenskwatawa,  my  father,  you  have  been  kind 
to  me.  I  have  tried  to  be  a  daughter  to  you.  Now 
I  am  about  to  leave  you  forever  —  to  return  to  my 
own  people.  The  Great  Spirit  wills  it  so.  My 
father,  I  would  exact  one  promise  from  you  at 
parting." 

Gently  he  disengaged  himself  from  her  embrace, 
and  answered  : 

' '  What  my  daughter  desires,  I  will  do. ' ' 

"  Then,"  she  cried,  "  use  all  your  influence  —  all 
your  power  —  to  dissuade  your  children  from  fight- 
ing longer  under  the  English  banner.  The  Seven- 
teen Fires  will  conquer  in  the  end.  The  Great 
Spirit  wills  it.  The  redmen  will  lose  their  lives  and 
their  lands  to  no  purpose.  Promise  me  you  will  do 
what  I  ask." 

"It  is  too  late,"  he  replied  dejectedly.  "My 
children  are  mad  with  the  taste  of  blood.  No  longer 
will  they  listen  to  my  voice.  I  helped  to  lead  them 
into  this  ;  now  I  cannot  drag  them  out.  They  are 
dogs  for  the  English  ;  they  bay  along  the  trail  — 
they  obey  the  lash.  Tecumseh,  my  brother,  has 
their  ears  ;  they  will  not  hear  my  words.  I  have 
sinned ;  and  thus  the  Great  Spirit  punishes  me. 
My  daughter,  I  shall  see  you  no  more.  Fare- 
well !" 

Drawing  his  blanket  over  his  head,  to  hide  his 
emotion,  the  Prophet  quitted  the  cabin.  His  thin 
lips  were  set ;  and  his  horrid,  painted  face  was 
26 


402  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

drawn  and  ashen.  A  moment  afterward,  John 
Douglas  entered  and  remarked  briskly  : 

"You  must  be  off.  Make  haste!  I'll  accom- 
pam'  you  to  the  river." 

La  Violette  made  a  compact  bundle  of  her  few  ef- 
fects, and  announced  herself  as  ready.  John  Doug- 
las led  the  way  from  the  cabin.  Farley  and  Bright 
Wing  still  stood  without ;  and  Duke  was  smelling 
around  the  door.  As  La  Violette  stepped  into  the 
open  air,  the  dog  fawned  upon  her,  evincing  his 
pleasure  at  again  meeting  her.  Tears  sprang  to 
her  eyes  ;  and,  patting  the  animal's  head,  she  mur- 
mured : 

"  Ah  !     You  remember  me,  good  fellow." 

' '  Duke  forgets  neither  his  friends  nor  his  ene- 
mies," Ross  said  smilingly. 

Farley  stepped  forward  and,  doffing  his  cap  and 
extending  a  grimy  hand,  remarked  : 

"  So  you're  La  Violette,  young  woman.  I've 
heerd  somethin'  of  you  in  the  last  day  'r  so."  — He 
grinned  maliciously  at  Ross.  —  "This  youngster 
here  couldn't  do  nothin' but  talk 'bout  you  —  he 
couldn't,  by  ginger  !  I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  I  am. 
Thought  I'd  iutr'duce  myself  —  seein'  Ross  Douglas 
wasn't  goin'  to  do  the  job  fer  me.  He's  'fraido'  my 
beauty,  little  gal  —  'fraid  you  might  shine  up  to 
me.  An'  this  is  Bright  Wing,  a  Wyandot.  He's 
a  purty  good  feller,  if  he  has  got  a  red  skin.  Me 
an'  the  Injin's  Ross's  ol'  comrades.  Lordy  !  Hain't 
we  been  in  many  a  scrimmage  ?  Gol-fer-socks  !  I 
guess  so." 


THE  SIGN  OF  THE  PROPHET  403 

I,a  Violette  laughed  musically  at  Joe's  absurdities  ; 
and,  grasping  the  extended  hands  of  each,  said  : 
' '  I  trust  we  shall  become  better  acquainted  in  the 
future — and  be  fast  friends," 

"  Ugh  1  "  was  the  monosyllabic  response  of  the 
Wyandot,  as  he  stepped  aside  and,  leaning  upon 
his  gun,  fixed  his  black  eyes  upon  a  distant  part  of 
the  stockade. 

Farley  had  not  yet  had  his  say,  however ;  and 
there  was  sincere  admiration  in  his  voice  and 
manner,  as  he  resumed  : 

"You're  a  dang  sight  purtier  'n  I  'xpected  you 
to  be,  little  gal  —  you  are,  by  Katherine  !  Asnear's 
I  could  git  it  from  Ross  Douglas's  ravin's,  you  was 
a  kind  of  red-headed  Injin  squaw  —  somethin'  like 
the  Winnebago  jade  that  wanted  to  marry  me. 
You  see,  miss,  the  women's  alluz  been  after 
me " 

"Joe  —  Joe!"  Ross  cried,  smiling  in  spite  of 
himself. 

"  It's  a  fact,  as  sure's  my  name  is  Joseph  Pere- 
goy ' '  the  woodman  began. 

But  John  Douglas  impatiently  interrupted  him 
with : 

' '  This  is  no  time  to  recount  your  love  affairs,  my 
friend.  After  you  have  reached  the  other  side  of 
the  river,  you  may  boast  to  your  heart's  content. 
Let's  be  off." 

With  the  words,  he  started  toward  the  gate  of  the 
dilapidated  palisade,  the  others  of  the  party  closely 
following  him.  Farley  grumbled  as  he  went  along : 


404  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

"  Ol'  Pucker  Face  is  as  imperdent  as  a  squawkin' 
catbird — buthe's?*^/.  Ding-it-all-to-dangnation  ! 
When  will  I  learn  not  to  let  my  limber  tongue  git 
the  best  o'  me?" 

Then  aloud  to  Ross  : 

"  That  fat  an'  greasy  redskin,  that  come  sidelin' 
up  to  us  jest  as  you  was  goin'  into  the  hut,  has 
been  slippin'  'round  'mong  the  other  Injins  an' 
doin'  a  heap  o'  talkin'.  I'll  bet  a  new  ramrod  he's 
up  to  some  devilment.  I  wish  I  could  place  him  — 
I've  seen  him  somewheres. " 

Ross  merely  nodded  ;  and,  taking  L,a  Violette's 
arm,  hurried  her  onward.  Just  outside  the  walls, 
John  Douglas  turned  and  whispered  in  his  son's 
ear : 

' '  We'll  proceed  to  the  landing-place  at  once. 
If  the  officer  who  came  over  with  us  isn't  there 
with  his  soldiers,  you  must  hail  your  friends  on  the 
other  side  and  have  a  boat  brought  to  you  immedi- 
ately. The  Indians  know  and  hate  you  and  your 
comrades.  There's  mischief  brewing.  Let's 
hasten." 

The  little  party  moved  rapidly.  John  Douglas's 
whispered  words  and  anxious  demeanor  had  warned 
his  companions,  of  the  gravity  of  the  situation  ;  and 
they  realized  that  no  time  was  to  be  lost,  if  they 
would  escape.  At  last  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  place  and,  to  their  great  relief,  beheld  the 
American  officer  and  his  escorts  just  ready  to  em- 
bark. An  English  officer  and  two  subalterns  were 
among  the  group  upon  the  shore. 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  405 

Ross  frantically  waved  his  hand  and  hallooed  at 
the  top  of  his  voice.  The  American  soldiers  gave 
him  a  ringing  cheer  in  reply,  thus  signifying  they 
would  await  his  arrival. 

At  that  moment,  a  score  or  more  of  savages, 
quickly  emerging  from  the  shelter  of  the  trees,  con- 
fronted Ross  and  his  companions. 

Bright  Wing  uttered  a  sharp  grunt  and  cocked 
his  rifle.  Farley  did  the  same,  muttering  as  he 
did  so  : 

"Jest  as  I  'xpected!  Ther's  that  dang  fat  brave 
leadin'  'em." 

Ross  placed  himself  in  front  of  I/a  Violette,  and 
looked  to  the  priming  of  his  weapon.  John 
Douglas  carried  his  own  gun,  which  had  been  re- 
stored to  him  on  leaving  the  blockhouse  at  Fort 
Meigs.  Now  he  boldly  stepped  forward  —  his  hol- 
low eyes  blazing  —  and  shouted  authoritatively,  in 
the  Shawnee  tongue : 

"Out  of  the  way,  you  hellhounds!  Do  you 
not  know  me  ?  ' ' 

From  force  of  habit,  the  Indians  retreated  a  few 
steps.  But  the  thick-set  warrior,  who  acted  as 
leader  of  the  band,  scowled  fiercely  as  he  replied  in 
blunt  backwoods  English  : 

"You  needn't  fire  any  Injin  lingo  at  me,  Mr. 
Scar  Face  —  as  the  redskins  call  you.  I  don't  un- 
derstand it.  But  I  know  you  —  I've  seen  you 
'round  the  camp.  An'  I  know  what  y'r  little  game 
is  now  —  an'  I'm  goin'  to  block  it." 

' '  George  Hilliard  ! ' '  Ross  exclaimed. 


406  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  The  low-lived  critter  ! ' '  Farley  hissed,  ner- 
vously fingering  the  trigger  of  his  rifle. 

The  fat  warrior  overheard  Ross's  exclamation, 
and  returned  savagely  : 

"Yes,  I'm  George  Hilliard ;  an'  I've  come  to 
have  a  final  settlement  with  you,  Ross  Douglas 


"  Out  of  the  way,  you  infernal  renegade  !  "  John 
Douglas  cried  menacingly. 

"Not  till  I'm  through  with  my  business,  Mr. 
Scar  Face,"  Hilliard  answered  coolly.  "  An'  you'd 
better  not  becallin'  hard  names,  'r  you'll  git  a  dose 
o'  the  same  medicine  we  mean  to  give  that  young 
dandy  at  y'r  side.  I'm  commandin'  this  squad  o' 
redskins ;  an'  they  don't  like  you  much  better' n 
they  do  him.  You  jest  keep  quiet  till  I  git  through 
with  my  business. ' ' 

Then  turning  his  attention  from  father  to  son  : 

"Ross  Douglas,  you  an'  me's  goin'  to  have  a 
final  settlement  right  here.  You  toted  off  my  wife 
last  night  —  me  an'  my  gang  trailed  you  'cross  the 
river.  An'  now  you've  come  to  carry  off  the 
Prophet's  gal.  You  ain't  content  with  one  woman 
—  you  want  two.  But  then  I  happen  to  want  this 
young  miss  myself  —  an'  I'm  goin'  to  have  her. 
Fair  'xchange  is  no  robbery.  You  can  have  my 
wife;  I'll  take  your  plump  little  sweetheart.  Hand 
her  over  peaceably,  an'  you  an'  y'r  crowd  can  go 
on  to  the  fort ;  refuse,  an'  my  warriors  '11  kill  an' 
scalp  the  last  one  o'  you.  Do  you  understand  ?  ' ' 

' '  I    understand    you  —  you    devil    incarnate  !  ' ' 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  407 

Ross  answered  in  a  voice  hoarse  with  rage.  ' '  Do 
your  worst!  You  shall  not  lay  your  vile  hands 
upon  this  pure  being,  as  long  as  the  breath  of  life  is 
spared  me! " 

"  Which  won't  be  very  long!"  Hilliard  muttered 
with  an  oath. 

Farley  and  Bright  Wing  set  their  teeth  and 
calmly  awaited  the  attack.  Ross  turned  to  his 
father  and  asked  : 

"What  can  we  do?" 

' '  Fight  to  the  death  !  ' '  was  the  cool  and  deter- 
mined reply. 

Slipping  an  arm  around  L,a  Violette's  waist,  Ross 
whispered  : 

"Good-by,  darling!  I,ie  down  behind  that 
mound,  out  of  the  way  of  flying  bullets.  As  soon 
as  the  first  discharge  of  firearms  is  over,  run  to- 
ward the  boat  at  the  top  of  your  speed.  If  I 
escape  death,  I'll  rejoin  you  there." 

She  was  very  pale ;  and  her  limbs  were  trem- 
bling. But  she  replied  firmly  : 

' '  I  will  not  leave  your  side,  Ross.  If  you  must 
die,  I  die  with  you!  " 

The  soldiers  on  the  shore  had  been  witnesses  of 
the  whole  proceeding.  At  the  distance,  they  could 
not  tell  what  was  going  on  ;  but  knowing  that 
something  was  amiss,  and  fearing  the  worst,  a 
number  of  them  had  left  the  boat  and  started 
toward  the  scene  of  disturbance.  Now  they  came 
running  at  full  speed  along  the  bank.  The  Wyan- 
dot's  quick  eyes  caught  sight  of  them  and  he 
grunted  ; 


408  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

' '  Palefaces  come  —  heap  many.     Ugh  ! ' ' 

"  That's  a  fact,  Injin!  "  Farley  muttered  in  reply. 
' '  If  we  can  only  hold  the  red  devils  off  till ' ' 

Ross  Douglas  was  anxiously  watching  the  actions 
of  the  savages.  Suddenly  he  saw  them  quit  talk- 
ing and  make  a  move  to  encircle  their  victims.  An 
inspiration  came  to  him.  Taking  a  step  forward, 
he  raised  his  right  hand  and  cried  in  ringing  tones  : 

"  Children  of  Teuskwatawa  !  " 

The  attention  of  the  Indians  was  arrested.  They 
stopped  and  stared  hard  at  the  speaker. 

"Behold  the  Sign  of  the  Prophet!"  Ross 
shouted. 

At  the  same  time,  he  slowly  waved  his  hand  to 
and  fro,  and,  imitating  the  sinuous  movements  of 
the  red  hypnotist,  advanced  upon  the  semicircle  of 
warriors.  The  effect  was  marvelous. 

' '  The  Sign  of  the  Prophet  !  The  Sign  of  the 
Prophet  !  "  they  wailed  in  terrified  accents,  shrink- 
ing away  from  him  —  their  eyes  immovably  fixed 
upon  the  talisman. 

For  a  moment  George  Hilliard  was  dumbfounded. 
He  could  not  understand  what  was  happening. 
Realizing  that  Ross,  in  some  way,  was  sending  ter- 
ror to  the  hearts  of  the  red  fiends,  the  thick-set 
villain's  face  grew  purple  with  rage.  He  stormed 
and  raved.  But  all  to  no  purpose  ;  the  savages 
were  spellbound  —  they  could  not  hear  his  voice. 

Slowly  advancing — and  continuing  his  serpen- 
tine movements  —  Ross  continued  : 

"Children  of  the  Prophet,  I  wear  his  sign  —  I 
have  his  power  !  I  am  doing  the  will  of  the  Great 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  409 

Spirit.  Away  —  away  !  Go  —  ere  I  strike  you 
blind " 

"Curse  you,  Ross  Douglas!  /'//  strike  you 
blind  !  "  Milliard  howled  frantically. 

Quick  as  a  flash,  he  threw  his  gun  to  his  shoulder 
and  fired.  But  quick  as  his  movements  were,  John 
Douglas's  were  quicker.  Just  before  the  roar  of 
the  firearm  rang  out  upon  the  air,  the  father  sprang 
in  front  of  his  son.  The  next  moment  he  sank  to 
earth,  mortally  wounded.  With  a  lionlike  roar 
of  rage,  Duke  leaped  upon  the  murderer  and 
dragged  him  to  the  ground.  Three  rifles  cracked 
in  rapid  succession ;  and  three  painted  braves  met 
death. 

The  spell  was  broken.  The  savages  gazed  about 
in  stupefaction.  Then,  dimly  realizing  what  had 
happened,  they  broke  and  fled  toward  the  cover  of 
the  woods,  just  as  the  soldiers,  cheering  lustily, 
dashed  up. 

L,a  Violette  dropped  upon  the  ground  and  pil- 
lowed John  Douglas's  head  upon  her  lap.  Ross 
bent  over  the  dying  man,  and  in  a  voice  full  of 
anguish  asked  : 

"  Father,  can  you  see  me  —  can  you  speak  to 
me?" 

The  fast-glazing  eyes  looked  steadily  into  those 
of  the  questioner,  and  the  white  lips  whispered 
faintly  : 

"I  see  both  of  you,  my  —  my  children;  but 
very — very  dimly.  Do  not  —  move  out  of  my 
sight.  I'm  dying!  It  is  best  so.  I  have  given 


410  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

my  life  for  you,  my  son  ;  and  I  —  I  die  happy.  I 
am  going  —  give  me  your  hands !  Good-by  —  I  — 
I " 

With  a  deep,  tremulous  sigh,  he  closed  his  eyes. 
Twice  the  deep  chest  heaved  spasmodically.  And 
he  was  dead. 

"My  father  —  oh,  my  father !"  Ross  moaned, 
still  clinging  to  the  dead  man's  hand. 

Joe  Farley  overheard  the  words  and  muttered  to 
himself : 

"Ross  Douglas's  father!  Scar  Face — Hiram 
Bradford — John  Douglas  —  all  one  an'  the  same. 
Dang-it-all-to-dingnation !  Hang-it-up-an'-take-it- 
down-an'-cook-it !  Won't  wonders  an'  mysteries 
never  come  to  an  end  ?  " 

Then,  in  a  low  tone,  he  said  to  the  Wyandot  : 

"  Injin,  we'd  better  call  Duke  away  from  that 
painted  lump  o'  taller  out  there.  I  s'pect  the  dog's 
worried  the  cuss  a  good  'eal  by  this  time." 

"Ugh!"  Bright  Wing  snorted  contemptuously. 
' '  Duke  no  worry  fat  paleface-redman  now  ;  fat 
paleface-redman  heap  much  dead.  Me  stick  knife 
in  him." 

"  Huh  !  "  Farley  ejaculated.     Then  to  the  dog  : 

"Here,  Duke,  come  away  from  that  carcass. 
You'll  git  p'izened  nosin'  'round  such  a  varmint  — 
you  will,  by  Molly  !  Come  away,  I  say  !  " 

The  hound  obeyed. 

Ross,  had  arisen,  and  stood  silently  gazing  into 
the  face  upturned  to  the  clouded  heavens.  L,a 
Violette  was  weeping  bitterly.  The  English  officer 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  411 

advanced  to  Ross's  side  and  said  with  much  feel- 
ing : 

"I  can't  tell  you,  young  man,  how  sorry  I  am 
that  this  thing  has  happened.  But  the  savages  are 
unruly  ;  they  can't  be  controlled " 

Then  he  abruptly  stopped  speaking  and  peered 
into  the  upturned  countenance.  Starting  back,  he 
exclaimed  excitedly  : 

"  Why,  this  is  Hiram  Bradford  —  one  of  our  own 
men  !  " 

Ross  nodded  stiffly. 

' '  Curse  the  savage  brutes  ! ' '  the  officer  mut- 
tered as  he  turned  and  strode  away.  "  Whom  will 
they  turn  upon  next?  " 

Taking  with  them  the  body  of  John  Douglas  — 
but  leaving  George  Hilliard  and  his  red  associates 
where  they  fell  —  the  company  made  their  way  to 
the  boat,  and  embarked  for  Fort  Meigs. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

LA  ViOLETTE,  during  her  short  stay  at  Fort 
Meigs,  lived  iu  the  tent  of  the  refugees.  By 
many  gracious  acts,  she  endeared  herself  to 
her  simple-minded  companions.  She  spent  much 
of  her  time  in  caring  for  Amy's  sick  and  fretful 
child  ;  and  the  heart-broken  young  mother  learned 
to  love  and  respect  the  gentle,  sweet-faced  nurse. 
The  two  women  exchanged  confidences  ;  and  each 
shed  tears  over  the  trials  that  had  fallen  to  the  lot 
of  the  other. 

One  evening,  Ross  and  his  sweetheart  were  walk- 
ing up  and  down  in  front  of  the  refugees'  tent. 
The  air  was  balmy  ;  the  sky  was  studded  with  stars. 
From  the  camp-fires,  twinkling  like  fireflies  in  the 
sweet  dusk,  came  the  sounds  of  merriment ;  from 
the  interior  of  the  tent,  came  the  cry  of  the  peevish 
baby. 

' '  I  pity  her  so !  "  La  Violette  said  softly.  ' '  She 
has  very  honestly  told  me  all,  Ross.  She  never 
loved  you  as  I  do  ;  but  she  loved  you  in  her  way  — 
I  am  sure.  And  she  lost  you.  Yet  I  am  selfish 
enough  to  be  glad,  while  I  pity  her ;  for  had  she 
not  done  what  she  did,  you  would  not  be  mine 
to-night." 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  carefully  weighing 
each  word.  "Perhaps  I  wouldn't  have  married 
(412) 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET  413 

her.  I'm  beginning  to  doubt  that  we  ever  really 
loved  each  other.  At  any  rate,  I  love  you  now, 
darling  —  you  alone!  Now  let  us  talk  of  our 
future." 

They  sauntered  from  the  spot ;  while  the  stars 
smiled  down  upon  them,  as  they  have  smiled  down 
upon  lovers  since  the  race  began. 

John  Douglas  found  a  grave  just  without  the 
wall  of  the  fortification.  In  an  obscure  corner  by 
himself,  he  was  laid  to  rest.  An  erring  son,  he  had 
spent  the  best  years  of  his  life  in  the  service  of  an 
alien  power  ;  but  he  came  home  to  sleep  his  last 
long  sleep. 

In  after-years,  Ross  Douglas  returned  to  Fort 
Meigs,  with  the  intention  of  erecting  a  monument 
to  his  father's  memory  ;  but  the  surroundings  had 
changed  so  much  he  could  not  locate  the  grave. 

When  General  Harrison  was  informed  of  the 
manner  of  John  Douglas's  death,  he  immediately 
sent  for  Ross.  Taking  the  son  by  the  hand,  the 
old  soldier  said  with  emotion  : 

"I'm  sincerely  glad  I  freed  your  father — sin- 
cerely sorry  he's  dead.  Yet  it  is  best.  His  death 
atones  for  his  life.  He  died  for  you.  It  was  a  noble 
self-sacrifice.  Your  father  had  in  him  the  elements 
of  a  great  and  noble  nature  ;  but  his  whole  life  was 
a  failure,  because  his  talents  and  energies  were  mis- 
directed. Whatever  comes,  my  young  friend,  be 
true  to  yourself,  your  country,  and  your  God!  " 

For  several  days  after  the  return  of  Ross  and  his 
friends  to  Fort  Meigs,  the  weather  continued  foul. 


4H  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

Then  it  grew  warm  and  bright  with  sunshine. 
With  the  change  in  the  weather,  came  a  change  in 
the  aspect  of  affairs.  Hostilities  were  not  renewed  ; 
an  exchange  of  prisoners  was  effected.  The  savages, 
discouraged  by  Proctor's  want  of  success  in  reducing 
the  American  garrison,  began  to  desert  his  standard 
in  large  numbers.  Realizing  the  uselessness  of 
prolonging  the  siege,  the  British  commander  pre- 
pared to  abandon  the  enterprise  ;  and  on  the  ninth 
of  the  month  he  took  his  departure. 

The  investment  of  the  post  had  lasted  thirteen 
days.  During  that  time  the  enemy  had  fired 
eighteen  hundred  shells  and  cannon  balls  into  the 
fort,  and  had  kept  up  an  annoying  discharge  of 
small  arms ;  yet  the  American  loss  in  killed  and 
wounded  was  only  two  hundred  and  seventy. 

Offensive  operations  were  for  a  time  suspended. 
The  American  troops  remained  at  Fort  Meigs  and 
Sandusky.  A  few  days  after  the  British  had  with- 
drawn, General  Harrison  left  General  Clay  in  com- 
mand of  the  post,  and  set  out  for  Franklintou,  to 
forward  re-enforcements.  With  the  commander  and 
his  escort,  went  Ross  Douglas  and  his  friends. 
Without  mishap  or  adventure,  the  whole  company 
reached  their  destination  in  the  latter  part  of  May. 

At  Franklinton,  Amy  Hilliard  bade  farewell  to 
Ross  and  La  Violette  and,  joining  a  party  of  return- 
ing settlers,  went  to  her  father's  people  in  western 
Pennsylvania. 

Upon  their  arrival  at  Franklinton,  Ross  Douglas 
and  Violet  Brownlee  were  married.  In  the  early 


THE  SIGN  OF   THE   PROPHET  415 

part  of  July  the  young  husband  returned  to  Fort 
Meigs.  He  served  throughout  the  war,  as  scout 
and  guide,  with  credit  to  himself  and  advantage  to 
his  country's  cause. 

Bright  Wing  went  with  his  white  friend,  and 
was  his  companion  in  many  a  perilous  enterprise. 
Farley  and  Duke  remained  at  Franklinton,  with  La 
Violette. 

"  I  am  loth  to  have  you  go,  Ross,"  she  said  when 
he  informed  her  of  his  purpose.  ' '  You  may  never 
come  back  to  me.  Still,  do  whatever  you  feel  is 
your  duty  —  I  would  not  hold  you  back.  Your 
country  is  my  country  now.  God  bless  and  keep 
you  I  " 

Fondly  kissing  her,  he  bade  her  farewell.  At  the 
door  of  the  cabin  that  was  his  temporary  abode,  he 
met  Farley.  The  eccentric  Joe  held  out  his  hands, 
saying  : 

"  Good-by,  Ross  Douglas.  I  hope  this  trip'll  be 
as  lucky  to  you  as  y'r  last  one  —  I  do,  by  ginger  ! 
I'll  take  good  keer  o'  y'r  purp  an'  the  little  woman. 
An'  if  you  git  killed,  I'll  marry  L,a  Violette  myself 
—  I  will,  by  King  Solerman's  six  hundred  wives  ! 
I  think  she's  kind  o'  struck  with  my  good  looks  an' 
beauty  a' ready  —  I  do,  by " 

"Good-by,  Joe  —  good-by!  "  Ross  interrupted, 
smiling.  "  L,et  no  harm  befall  her,  old  friend. 
Good-by  !" 

And  he  was  gone,  leaving  Farley  staring  after 
him. 


416  THE  SIGN  OF   THE  PROPHET 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  the  young  couple  went  to 
Quebec,  to  obtain  possession  of  their  property.  L,a 
Violette's  relative  was  dead  ;  and  she  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  proving  her  title  to  the  estate.  Ross,  with 
some  trouble,  obtained  the  bulk  of  his  father's 
fortune.  Turning  their  real  estate  into  money, 
they  returned  to  the  land  they  loved  —  to  the  shel- 
ter of  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  To  the  day  of  his 
death,  Ross  Douglas  wore  the  ring  that  had  finally 
brought  him  such  good  fortune  —  the  gift  of  L,a 
Violette  —  the  Sign  of  the  Prophet. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


JUN 


REC'D  ID- 
URL-uT  NOV  ?9 
NOV  2 l 

,-iEC'DYRL  JAW  02 


QI.JAN  1 1  2000 


pas 


